Cardinal
by iamthedreadpirateroberts
Summary: When Kristen Valenski was summoned to the old church in her town, she never expected to be turned into a vampyr. But that's what happened and now she's on a quest to defeat Prince Zorinthos and his army of wyrwolves with four other vampyrs and a kid. R
1. Prologue

_**A.N. -** This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Prologue**

Drip . . . Drip, drip. Drip. Drip, drip-drip. The clear crystals fell from the heavens in their simple, blissfully erratic pattern. The dark spring leaves bent under the gentle weight, savoring the cool liquid. The air smelled clean and pure.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

The black bell's deadly toll called to those who yearn for light but cannot quite reach it. The darkest of the reclusive citizens gathered secretively in the ruins of the raven-encrusted church. Home to the dead, none but the nightly worshipers and the very foolish visited the old church, especially after the sun had set.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

The old church, rotted with age and lack of care, stood tall and foreboding alone at the city's center. The steeple creaked and swayed with the harsh wind under the weight of near a hundred blackbirds, all of them eerily silent.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

A single blood red cardinal took flight from the razor tip of the obsidian tower of the church. Leading a tornado of blackbirds, the lone cardinal glided through the city, weaving in and out of the tall buildings, over the short ones, all of them in far better condition than the church. The scarlet bird, followed by an army of ravens and crows, flew deep into the thick forest surrounding the city. They left behind a rotting skeleton of what had once been a glorious church.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

Black mud sloshed against the dirty cement sidewalk. Soiled rainwater flooded the streets, pouring heavily now from the angry blue-black dome. The unkempt church reeked of danger, hatred, and worry; it was a waterfall of darkness and despair. The pure light of hope seemed nowhere in sight around the skeletal church.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

A trickle of dark-clad, pale-faced, severe-looking people slipped out of declining tenements and simple homes. The small group grew steadily larger as the sky grew darker, deadlier.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

As the heavens opened up further, dumping their tragedies on the world below, a deep wordless chant began, more like a tuneless song, starting softly at first and then slowly growing louder; the chant fully expressed the moods of the city. Cautious. Worried. Suspicious. Tired. Frightened. Dark. Sorrowful. Outraged.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

People stirred in their sleep, tossing and turning uncomfortably, disrupted with no logical explanation of why. Their dreams drifted to nightmares, creatures of pure insanity haunting their troubled minds.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

A sudden unexplainable sense of desperate longing washed over the citizens of the blackened city, gripping them more tightly than ever before. The odd, overwhelming sensation disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving no evidence of ever having been there in the human mind, shrouded by the heavy veil of disbelief. The city, and the people, was cut off from reality by a thick, beautifully dangerous forest.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

The flooded, muddy streets slowly drained, leaving behind garbage and trash that no one would take the time or effort to pick up and throw away until the morning, which seemed so very far away. Soft, barely audible footsteps pattered and splashed down the puddle-filled sidewalks and potholed streets.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

With the increasing darkness of the night, the mischievous, eager shadows took over to make mayhem with sight. Nothing was what it seemed in the shadows, subtly and not so subtly making minds of incredible structure and strength waver and break down into fear and hatred. The shadows reflected what all awake at that late hour hungered for. _Vengeance._

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

A secretive silence fell, blanketing the houses and buildings with its excruciating weight. The alleys and roads quieted, barks and meows ceased until the only sounds left were those of the rain and the wordless song.

Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

As the song reached a crescendo, the church doors burst open, silencing the mournful music. A decrepit old man could be seen from just inside the doorway, only inches away form the cleansing rain. He wore a crimson suit jacket over a black button-down shirt and black pants coupled with a pair of black, shiny dress shoes. His pale face was lined with worry, but with a cool, confident determination that could easily be mistaken for arrogance or defiance lay just beneath.

"We have been found, my brethren."

"Found?" gasped one stricken woman, nearly falling over in her fright. None of the other black-clad people looked any better, but most stood straight. In response to the stricken woman, the old man nodded gravely. The dark congregation exploded into shocked whispers and hisses of fear and rage. A cold, wrinkly fist was raised, revealing a red cardinal etched into the back of the hand, a bright contrast against the white flesh. Immediately the sanctuary fell silent as if there had been no noise at all.

"We have been found," he started again, his gold eyes glazing over in the agony of memories long since past, but were never forgotten. "Fleeing is not an option – there is nowhere to run to. Our cousins north of us were slaughtered little over a week ago now. A half a year ago They found Father Sagareth in the far eastern deserts and two years before now, Mother Syeti submitted herself to Them to protect her people – a grave mistake as we all know now." The old man sighed, coming forward and sitting shakily on the cold, wet, broken steps at the front of the church, his slow movements the only thing betraying his frantic thoughts and emotions. "We here in Cerentia are the last of our noble race. We must remain strong! We must not submit! We will _survive!"_ The spark of hope on his people's faces nearly broke his heart but he hid his feelings, as he always had, to keep utter despair from his people.

If they could just keep strong, just hold up . . . If they could just resist long enough then maybe, maybe . . . Maybe they could live . . . Hope was all they had left. Hope and the strength their ancestors passed down to them. They would survive!

"The Creator has bestowed upon me the knowledge of five people, four who are not yet part of us, who will bring revolution to the land of Azagarith." The ancient man continued, golden eyes flicking around the crowd, perhaps searching for one particular face, the one that would help bring around the revolution he spoke of. A woman near the back coughed and a neighbor patted her on the back until the woman straightened, teary-eyed.

"I suggest we resume usual activities. If, indeed, there is a spy, we must not allow them intelligence of our own knowledge of them. Things must remain as normal as usual. There must be no hint, no trace for them to track." His commanding voice lulled the mass into peace and the all shuffled into the church as they always did on the half moons of the year.

The ancient leader nodded to a young man with longish, black hair, fixing him with his wise golden eyes. Obediently, the young man shuffled toward him, the crowd splitting apart and reforming behind him to allow him passage to his destination. The young man plopped down beside the old man as only the healthiest can and stared at the old man with admiration akin to hero-worship, pale sapphire eyes aglow with pride.

"My dear boy, I will need your help tomorrow. My old bones can barely make it up to the surface once a fortnight, let alone two nights in a row. Tomorrow morning, just before noon, a girl will come, a girl just around your age." The man smiled wanly, memories flooding his mind, memories he quickly discarded and continued. "You need to lead her to me when she arrives, but do not openly await her. I'll help you partway. Do not worry about exposure, my boy. That will be handled for you." The young man, who was merely a child compared to the ancient man before him, nodded solemnly.

"Why?" he asked, his voice barely heard above the whisper of a breeze that toyed with his mid-neck, black hair before moving on to a more desirable victim. "Why me?"

The old man almost smiled as he answered, "Well, it certainly isn't for your obedience!" His face returned to the all-too-familiar somber expression he had worn for weeks on end now. "No, dear boy. I have my own reasons. Reasons I choose not to reveal just yet for other reasons." He paused, both men silent. "Go now. Join the others. I will be along shortly." The young man nodded and left, sinking into the broken and battered skeletal church.

The old man stayed, peering sadly into the woods. A simple cardinal joined him, landing expertly on his shoulder. As he reached up to stroke the red bird, he looked into its golden eyes and sighed. "This is just another beginning, my friend. A beginning I will start, but not stay to finish." With these words, he walked silently into the church, the cardinal rubbing its scarlet face against his wrinkled cheek empathetically, as if he understood what all had been said, as if he agreed.

_**A.N. 2 -** Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	2. Church

**__****A.N. -** _This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Church**

Sighing, she turned away from the broken church. The old church had seemed to call to her while she slept the night before, but now she was here, nothing was happening. Nothing magical, or mythical, or even mystical. Nothing. She let her shoulders droop, clearly displaying her disappointment. Her mother thought she was at the library and would be there for the rest of the afternoon. What would she do for the rest of the day? She hadn't planned anything in case the 'calling' was just her imagination. Blindly running into things without thinking, as always.

As she'd been thinking, she had also been walking, a very dangerous combination, and, being the klutz she was, she tripped. A thin, wiry form scowled from the shadows of the church, blackened with age. He watched as the tall young woman with her mass of curly-wavy, dirty blonde hair turned away from him and tripped, falling flat on her face in the mud. Father Nolatari had been so certain this mere child was their only hope, their only savior. A sign from the Creator himself, he'd said! Why would the Creator send them such a clumsy, brainless, and utterly useless little girl to save them? Their cause was hopeless. _It might even be a better idea to give up now, to surrender and die_, he thought grimly, _than to be slaughtered nursing a false hope of survival_. However, for Father Nolatari's sake, he had to bring her into the church. At least long enough for him to see that she was the wrong one. Or, perhaps, her clumsiness was a just guise to fool them. His ice blue orbs were shut off from the world when he closed his eyes. He could not bear to watch his covenants – his races, he corrected – only hope fall a second time. There was no way the girl was faking it.

He took a deep breath and did what no normal vampyr should ever be able to accomplish unharmed: he stepped out into the glaring sunlight. Glancing down, he was more than a little surprised to find that he was intact. No burning flesh, no turning to dust. He was safe. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of the warm sun on his back before setting off after the tall young woman. Had anyone been around to watch, they would have seen his wiry form gracefully stride toward the slightly taller figure of the incredibly clumsy savior.

"Come, girl," he hissed from behind her as she regained her balance for the third time since arriving at the crumbling church. The girl whipped around to face him, nearly falling yet again in her haste. Her green eyes were wide with wonder and fascination – there was no hint of disbelief that he could see. Hopefully Father Nolatari's ancient eyes would be able to see more. If there was any more to be seen.

"Who are you?" she asked, gazing at the boy before her. He looked no older than herself and stood maybe only an inch or so shorter than her. The young man had a piercing, hawk-like, ice blue gaze that immediately sent shivers racing down her spine. Luckily, his neck-length black hair covered most of his pale sapphire eyes. Despite the shivers, she felt – no, she _knew_ she could trust him. But why?

"Who I am is of no concern to you at the moment. Follow. There are those inside who eagerly await your arrival and at least one who can answer any questions you may have," he replied hollowly, sharply turning to walk back to the black church, not even waiting for the girl to reassert herself before setting off back to the safety of the shadows. Despite possessing the ability to walk in sunlight, given most graciously by Father Nolatari, the sun still burned his eyes and he was grateful to slip back into the coolness of the shadows. The girl, he looked to see, had obediently scampered after him, not tripping in the slightest. How intriguing.

She followed as the strange young man led her into the ruins of the church, through twisting tunnels and endless passages, always heading down. _What others?_ She thought to herself as she admired the beautiful paintings and tapestries that hung from the old stone walls, nearly breaking one painting in her fascination. What the art showed first was probably the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve crashing down to Earth, falling away from God. The second was of a young, pale man with flaming red hair and bright golden eyes killing someone that looked very much like him – his brother perhaps? In the next painting the young murderer was cursed by a misty form – God? The fourth, a beautiful, shimmering tapestry, featured the killer wondering endlessly in tunnels not unlike the one she was in now, only his tunnels were void of art and of people. And so it continued, this story-art on the walls. Others, cursed like the young man, were spawned, and those created others. There were great battles, battles she had never heard of, not that she ever paid much attention in history, but that was beside the point. The point was that she had never heard of _real_ werewolves and _real_ vampires _really_ fighting, but she had the distinct feeling these paintings told the true history of some ancient race, though which one, she could only guess.

The last painting was more of a map, to be honest, and seemed to shift before her very eyes. There was a dead snake to the east, flecked with every shade of brown and laying in a pool of its own blood. Other animals on the odd map were in similar positions. An owl, a bear, a dolphin. Everywhere there were huge snarling wolves, obliterating everything in their path. And yet there was a magnificent blood red cardinal in the very place in which her reclusive city should have been, helplessly flapping its scarlet wings, knowing it was caught and unprepared to die.

In her amazement, she had not noticed her companion stop, nor did she see the huge golden doors that towered high above her. The young, pale man tapped his foot impatiently, waking her from her trance. "You must go in alone," he stated irately, gesturing towards the doors. It was an honor few received, getting to step through those doors and into the chambers beyond. He disliked the risk Father Nolatari was taking and found himself envious of the stranger – the human. Who among their noble covenant would not be?

She nodded, concentration broken, and tripped as she reached the giant golden doors, crashing into them. If she hadn't, she never would have noticed the huge cardinal engraved into the soft metal. Its head was held high, beak open, wings fully spread and ready for flight. It was a noble bird indeed. The doors slowly creaked open, sending her toppling through them. Her lightly tanned face slammed into the ceramic mural of a red bird – the same on engraved of the door, she noticed ironically.

She lifted her gaze and blinked several times before deciding that what she saw was real. Indeed, it was over before she had even finished her blinking. What happened – what she _thought_ happened – was this two-foot high cardinal sitting in the golden throne of the mural bird's eye transformed into an old man, slumped over and obviously weary. The old man now sitting in the golden throne looked stressed, depressed, and very worried. His tired golden eyes flickered over to her, sprawled out on the floor, spread-eagle with her face turned up toward him, dark green eyes staring at him in utter amazement. _A colony of shape-shifters?_ she thought, still in awe of what she had just witnessed. After all, both of the cardinals, on the floor and on the door, and the two-foot cardinal, and the old man all had golden eyes. Now that she thought of it, so did the killer in the paintings.

"No child, I am not the Creator, Cain, father of all my kin. I am merely Nolatari, father of this last covenant. Hence why I am referred to as Father Nolatari." Those golden eyes seemed to almost glow with humor as the embarrassed girl scrambled up. She stood level with his head, even with his throne raised two feet off the ground.

"Who is this Creator guy? What do you want with me? What is going on?" she asked hurriedly, looking around. The room was a perfect square, the walls covered in paintings of various animals, each of them staring at her. Were these the others that guy had been talking about? They all looked scared or angry or tired.

"All in good time, my dear. First, what is your name, child?" the old man, Father Nolatari replied. Was he avoiding answering her questions?

"Kristen," she answered dutifully.

"And how old are you?" Father Nolatari asked.

"How old are _you_?" Kristen countered, forgetting her awe at the magic in the room for a minute.

Father Nolatari was smiling now. "Ah, but I asked you first, Kristen," To this she had no counter, and so submitted, mumbling that she was eighteen, thinking it prudent to keep her actual age hidden, in case the old man was really some creepy cultist that wanted to sacrifice her to some random icky deity.

"I would rather you not lie to me, child. After all, I have been wholly truthful myself and have been courteous and trusting beyond belief," he smiled grimly. In two sentences he showed her that, one, he could detect her lies, and, two, that he also had a heck of a lot more power than she had at first realized.

"I'm sixteen, sir," Kristen corrected, wondering vaguely whether it had been Father Nolatari who had called her here and not the church as she had originally thought.

"Indeed Kristen, I called you here. And, if you would, please call me Father Nolatari or just father. I feel terribly old each time someone calls me 'sir'." He still had not lost his thin smile, or his weary appearance. "And, since you asked, I believe that I am somewhere around six centuries in age." No wonder he looked so old! He certainly was.

_Wait,_ "Centuries?" she gasped in disbelief. But why not? She had watched him transform from a two foot red bird to the old man he was now and the pictures on the wall kept moving, which was beginning to make her dizzy.

"I think it is time I explained to you what I am." Father Nolatari's smile broadened slightly, revealing a pair of perfectly white fangs. Kristen jumped back in fear. A vampire! "We prefer vampyr, spelled V-A-M-P-Y-R. There's really very little difference in the name, aside from the little pronunciation difference. However, let's review the traditional vampire, shall we? What are they like? What do they do?"

"Well, uh," she licked her lips, thinking back to playing Castlevania games, watching various vampire movies, like Underworld or Van Helsing, and reading the random vampire novels she could find in the library. "They, um, they drink blood. And they, er, they're dead. And they, uh, they, uh, they can't go out in sunlight . . ."

"And?" Father Nolatari prompted. Kristen thought back long and hard to all the vampire novels she had read. They could not give birth but they could –

"They sire humans!" she exclaimed triumphantly, almost jumping up and down in her excitement.

"How?" Father Nolatari asked, his smile growing once more to reveal his fangs. Kristen stopped jumping.

"They drink the to-be vampire's blood until there is none left and they give them some of their own blood," Kristen paraphrased.

"Right you are, my dear. Vampyrs, however, are very different in some respects. But we _are_ dead, we _cannot_ reproduce, we _cannot_ walk in sunlight, and we _do_ need blood to survive, but aside from that, vampyrs and human legend are incredibly different. In fact, vampires amuse those of us that are left."

"Father Nolatari, what do you mean by 'those of us that are left'? What happened to everyone else?" Kristen blurted out and immediately regretted doing so. _Me and my big mouth_, she thought to herself.

"Ah, I believe you have already seen the answer to that, my dear. However, if you wish it, I will explain that in a minute or so." Father Nolatari did not mind her interruptions and questions. They marked a curious mind, and curiosity would be a useful virtue to her. As would the caution she was not portraying. "As I was saying, vampyrs have very different life styles. We don't run around stealing children and devouring them. We live in covenants. There are five covenants, each with a different animal as their symbol. Our covenant is, obviously, the Cardinal Covenant. To the east would be the Snake Covenant, to the west, the Owl Covenant. North of us, the Bear Covenant resides and on the islands is the Dolphin Covenant. Each vampyr, upon being sired, is given an animal they can transform into. The covenant leaders exchange their animal for the covenant's animal, to symbolize giving up luxuries and taking on responsibilities. Each vampyr can transform into their animal whenever they so choose." _That explains the two foot cardinal_, Kristen thought. "Most vampyrs must stay within a normal size range for their animal when they transform. Only covenant leaders are exempt from this rule. You'll find covenant leaders are exempt from a lot of rules. I won't waste our time together talking about what covenant leaders can and cannot do." He paused here to let the new information sink in.

"Next topic: the vampyrs necklace. Each vampyr is given a necklace within the first twenty-four hours of being sired. Each necklace consists of two little bottles on a silver chain. One bottle is made of blue and green glass. It holds five swallow-full's of Sirewater. Sirewater is the liquid used to sire new vampyrs, obviously. The other bottle is red and gold glass and only has enough liquid in it for barely even one swallow and no more. This liquid is called Lifewater. It can resurrect any dead creature or being and even restore a whole forest, but the resurrection comes at a high price. After exactly fifty years to the day, hour, minute, and second of using the Lifewater, the vampyr dies and cannot be brought back, hence the name Lifewater." He showed Kristen his own necklace as an example as he talked.

"Now, to sire, you must first ask permission of the to-be vampyr. If they refuse, you need to wipe the memory of the event. If they agree, which is more than likely, you then drain them of every last drop of blood; otherwise the siring will go horribly wrong. They will die and you will be unable to bring them back to properly sire them, even with Lifewater. Within the first hour of taking all of their blood, they must be given a dose of your Sirewater. Usually Lifewater is used in instances in which the vampyr fails to give the sireling their dose of Sirewater within the time limit, though that does not often occur."

"Um," Kristen interrupted before the old man could continue, "why are you telling me all this?" she asked.

Father Nolatari looked genuinely surprised at her question. "Why! Don't you _want_ to be a vampyr?" The shock was evident in his voice.

"Yeah I do, but why _me_? Why not some other person?" Father Nolatari's face fell.

"I see it is high time I told you the rest, Kristen." He sighed, resuming his original tired, haggard appearance. "For centuries the wyrwolves have been persecuting my kind. It started with ancient blood feuds that lead to the Dark Wars, a series of wars all bunched together in which many of vampyrs and wyrwolves and even humans fought and died. Afterwards, the humans cut themselves off from our two races to try to keep themselves and their children safe. In the last couple of years it has been a massacre led by the current wyrwolf leader, princes as they call them, named Prince Zorinthos. The Owl Covenant, the covenant Prince Zorinthos struck first, surrendered in hopes of keeping most of them alive, but was destroyed anyway. Next the Snake and Dolphin covenants were obliterated and then the Snake Covenant was murdered. This covenant, the Cardinal Covenant, is the last. We here in the city of Cerentia are the last of the vampyrs and we, too, have been located by the growing wyrwolf empire. I was informed of this last night, though we have no idea how long this watching has gone on. They must know by now who each one of us is and where we live and whatnot. The Creator – you know him as Cain son of Adam, the young man in the paintings who killed his brother Abel and was punished by God to forever walk the earth alone – showed me that there were five living in this city that would help us. One of them . . . is you." Father Nolatari looked expectantly at her.

"Me?" she gasped. "But I can't even walk five feet without tripping!"

"The Creator said specifically that _you_ would stop the wyrwolves," Father Nolatari replied stubbornly.

"Well, then, who are the others?" Kristen asked, wondering who else could possibly help her destroy a bunch of wyrwolves.

"You will meet them next Saturday, if you really do wish to aid us." Kristen vigorously nodded. "Then do come closer, my dear. I will not bring harm to you, although siring has been known to sting." Shuddering but obedient, Kristen stepped forward and swiped their hair away from her neck. The old man looked on the verge of laughter. "Your wrist will do." Sheepishly, she reached out her arm towards the old man. He took her upper arm and palm in his hand and twisted it awkwardly toward him. With precision developed only with time, he bit into her flesh, almost hungrily sucking her warm, crimson blood into his own empty veins. She gasped and fell but that did not stop Father Nolatari. He did not even pause. The edges of her vision grew dim and finally, blessedly, she fell into darkness.

After what seemed like a lifetime, she awoke, blinking, to the harsh light of a far smaller room. A few moments passed and she could see clearly against the glare. The stone walls were bare and the floor was stone as well, she noticed. There was a desk, a chair, a wardrobe, a washstand and basin, and, of course, the bed she was laying on, all made of oak wood, except the basin, which was steel. Kristen groaned and sat up groggily. What had happened after she blacked out? Was she dead, or still technically alive? Was she really a vampyr? Where was she now? What time was it? How long had it been?

"Good, you're awake," a gruff, male, voice said. Kristen screamed and accidentally fell off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. The bed was warm and soft, she now noticed, whereas the ground was rough, freezing, and _painful_. She struggled to stand while looking for who the voice belonged to. "Behind you, idiot," the voice growled impatiently. Kristen jumped and turned around (without falling, amazingly) to face the voice. It was that guy who had taken her to Father Nolatari. His pale face was scrunched up, giving him an irritated, disdainful look.

"Father Nolatari says you need to be somewhere else now. He said you should go quickly to your home." Almost as an after thought, he added, "It's only been a few hours since he brought you out." A few hours! What was her mom thinking with her missing like this? Kristen scrambled up and raced out the door. She bit her lip, hoping that her mom had not gotten to the library yet, when she realized that she had fangs! She really was a vampyr! How would she explain suddenly having_ fangs_ to her mom? Halloween was _ages _away!

Kristen raced up the twisting tunnels and endless passages, up and up she went until she reached ground level, not bothering to marvel at her inane new navigational skills. She ran outside, bursting through the doors that were falling off their hinges. Kristen ran, streaming down the road, with speed that would put all-star track runners to shame. She turned sharply right, almost falling over in her haste. On the busy streets, Kristen was very nearly run over dozens of times, but thankfully managed to evade any nasty collisions with cars.

When she got to the library, Kristen realized that it had not been hours at all. That blasted vampyr had tricked her! She could have punched his face in, she was so mad! But, since he was probably still at the church laughing his head off at her, she could not. The thought made her even angrier.

Just then her mom pulled up in the parking lot, so Kristen grabbed a random book from the nearest shelf and checked it out quickly before racing out her mother's silver van. Ooh! She would get her revenge on him! But as she was thinking this, Kristen tripped on positively nothing and her face slammed into the concrete, probably chipping her left fang. Her mother was chuckling softly to herself when Kristen clambered into the van, utterly embarrassed. Kristen almost gasped when she looked at the cover of the book she had checked out. It was titled Vampires in Cerentia, obviously about vampires living in her city, Cerentia. Not only that, but it was written by one Naloteri Hephingburg! Could it be that Father Nolatari wrote Vampires in Cerentia? The irony mad her head spin.

Kristen's mother Angela was as beautiful as Kristen was clumsy. She had long, straight, light brown hair and a pair of deep forest green eyes like Kristen's. Angela had smooth, flawless, tanned skin and a shapely body, too. Even in her late thirties-early forties, younger men still considered her to be good looking. _And_ she never tripped, or broke anything, or said anything stupid at all, like Kristen did all the time. On top of it all, Angela was a wonderful, caring mother that supported her children and a loving wife (though Kristen did not know that last bit from experience). Frustrating as it was, Kristen's mom was absolutely perfect in every way.

They sped along home. Their house was one story, but the basement had been converted into a bedroom and a bathroom for Kristen. The lawn was cut short and looked rather parched, as did the rose bush surrounding the square house. However, the large peach tree in the front yard looked as sturdy and healthy as ever. When Kristen looked closer, she saw there was an abnormally small cardinal sitting on one of the higher branches in the peach tree. It seemed to wink at her as she walked inside.

Shuddering inwardly at the thought of being followed, Kristen hurried through the living room, past her parents bedroom, and down the stairs into her bedroom. She sighed and shut the door before flopping down on top of the dark blue blanket on her bed, wondering how the upcoming week of school would go, with her being a vampyr and all. She highly doubted that the school board would understand. _Are there any wyrwolves living here, or is it just vampyrs? If there isn't a wyrwolf living here in Cerentia, then that means that someone is a traitor! _

Kristen gasped and sat up. She almost ran all the way back to the church to warn Father Nolatari, but she relaxed when she realized that he had probably already thought of that and had taken necessary safety measures against any traitors. Still worried, though, Kristen stood up and paced her room, tripping or bumping into things periodically. Finally, she yanked open the desk drawer, unable to just pace any longer, and she gasped at its contents.

Inside was a simple silver chain and on that chain were two little bottles, the ones that Father Nolatari had said every vampyr received within the first twenty-four hours of being sired. Kristen grinned and slipped it on over her head. She flipped her mass of curly-wavy dirty blonde hair over the chain to hide it. Kristen walked over to her dresser to examine how she now looked as a proper vampyr. Her hair seemed straighter, tamer, though not by much, and her green eyes looked lighter, a hint of yellow in them. She was definitely thinner, she decided, when she turned halfway. Her left fang was bent inward slightly and it was chipped, probably from her fall outside the library earlier, and her lip was bleeding a bit and looked swollen. But, even as she registered the look over her mouth, the small cut healed. The redness was still there, and her lip was still swollen, but the cut was gone. _Amazing!_ Kristen thought, wiping the miniscule amount of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Over all, she looked pretty good, compared to normal.

"Kristen! Come eat dinner!" her father called. He was a tall man, even taller than Kristen, and he, unlike her mother, quite looked his age. Thomas had short, dirty blonde hair, dark amethyst eyes, and lightly tanned skin like Kristen's own. Kristen's stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she had not eaten lunch and had scarcely eaten breakfast that morning. Kristen quickly shoved the necklace in her shirt so that all that could be seen of it was the silver glint of the chain peeping out of her mass of hair in the right lighting. She ran out of her room, taking the stairs two at a time.

As she slipped into her seat beside her younger brother and sister, her mother caught a glimpse of her new necklace. "What do you have on, dear?" she asked sweetly. A hint of fear crossed Angela's flawless face, but it was gone too soon for Kristen to be certain of it.

"Oh! It's a necklace a friend of mine gave me as a late Christmas present." As it was still only early March, Kristen's lie held well enough, as she had expected. Her brother, Fredrick (Fred), squirmed and smirked at her. He had short cut, light blonde hair and green eyes like their mother and freckles.

"Was it a _guy_ friend?" he asked slyly, the little fox. Kristen shook her head. What was she supposed to tell them? That a really, _really_ old man invited her into the church (where she was not supposed to be anyway) and that he had killed her, brought her back, and she had the necklace because of it? No way! Cassandra (Cassie), Kristen's sister, giggled at Fred's comment. Cassie had deep amethyst eyes, so dark that they were almost black. Her hair was also a dirty blonde, but it was perfectly straight, unlike Kristen's.

"No, Jessica gave it to me," Kristen answered reasonably. Fred was twelve and did not believe her answer one bit. Neither did Cassie, who would turn six on Saint Patrick's Day. Cassie, though, had the uncanny ability to detect lies and see through them to the truth, and often called out the liar on it, but on this occasion, Cassie remained oddly quiet.

Kristen sighed and when her mother set her plate down in front of her, she immediately gulped down her food as if there was no tomorrow. Soon enough there was nothing left on her plate, not even crumbs, and she hurriedly piled more food onto her plate and continued eating. After taking just two bites, however, Kristen bent over her plate, still pretty full, and threw up everything that she had eaten.

"Ugh! Kristen!" Fred protested. Thomas stood, grimacing, and took Kristen's plate and scraped it into the trash, which he suddenly ordered Fred to take out for the trash men to pick up the next day. Cassie stood up and took her plate into the kitchen to eat. When Thomas asked her why, she said that she did not want to 'provoke Kristen's angry tummy with the sight of food'. Thomas sighed and shook his head.

Angela scowled for a moment before turning to Kristen. "Honey, why don't you go change and lay down?" Kristen nodded; she could still taste the bile in her mouth. She groaned and beat her head into the pillow when she got into her room. How could she have possibly forgotten that vampyrs couldn't eat human food? How could she have forgotten that vampyrs drank _blood_? Kristen frowned and pulled the pillow away from her face. How would she explain puking every time she ate something? The bad food excuse would only work so many times, especially since no one else would get sick. That and most stomach bugs only lasted for a short amount of time.

Kristen moaned and stripped down to her underclothes. Pulling on a long, baggy tee-shirt and baggy blue pajama pants, Kristen turned off the light and clambered into bed. What would the next few days be like? One thing was certain – Kristen would not be going to the library any time soon. She had _way_ too much to think on.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	3. Quarrels

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Quarrels**

Kristen awoke Saturday evening with quite a bit on her mind. Cassie would be turning seven the next day and she wanted to spend the day outside at the park which, obviously, would not fly well with Kristen's new powers and weaknesses. She had gotten away with not going to school by eating and throwing up all week. Kristen was also worried and curious about the other four people who would be helping her defeat the wyrwolves. Another thing that worried her was that her mother, Angela, had been keeping an unusually close eye on her all week. But she would worry about all that later. Right now she had to get out to the church.

Kristen sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. Her basement room was rather cluttered. Kristen's large dresser was made of simple yew painted black. Actually, all of her furniture was yew painted black. Her queen sized bed, her large roll-top desk, her wardrobe, and even the wood of her full sized mirror. Paper and books lay askew all over the soft green carpet, making it difficult to walk around without stepping on something or knocking over a pile, even if you were careful. Various posters of musicians and actors were crookedly tacked to the gold walls. Over all, Kristen's room clearly expressed what type of person Kristen was. Before being sired, that is.

As Kristen stood there wearing her pale pink bunny pajamas, she pondered how best to get out of the house unnoticed. She glanced at her alarm clock and red, glowing, angry numbers glared back at her. It was 7:02 PM. Her father, Thomas, would be at work and her mother would get home in an hour or so. Fred would be playing video games and Cassie would most likely be playing with her dolls, but what if her younger siblings weren't doing what Kristen supposed? Kristen decided to take a shower and change before coming up with a plan and maybe the shower would clear her head and everything wouldn't feel like such a dream. So Kristen grabbed a pair of black jeans, a belt, and a forest green t-shirt and slipped into her bathroom.

About forty minutes later, Kristen stepped out of the bathroom with semi-straight hair, which she had viciously attacked with a straightener for convenience. Now she grabbed a simple headband and a large ponytail holder so as to attempt to control her still-unruly hair. Kristen pulled on socks and snatched her boots before sneaking out of her room and up the stairs. She tip-toed carefully past her parents' bedroom and crawled quietly behind the couch in the living room. Fred did not notice her arrival and departure, being so absorbed in his game (Castlemania II: Curse of Death, of course, making Kristen inwardly wince). Kristen padded quietly past her little sister's bedroom. Cassie was playing with her stuffed animals, as usual. The little girl had quite a collection of magical creatures. She had a werewolf, a vampire, a dragon, an elf, a unicorn, a dwarf, a siren, a griffin, a demon, a phantom, a harpy, a troll, a goblin, a cyclops, a wyvern, a seraphin, a pegasus, and a large chameleon (a shapeshifter, Cassie always said). And of course, she also had a human to complete the set.

"Take that, you vile human!" Cassie was saying, making her green dragon attack the little harmless human. "You cursed us, all of us!" she had the dwarf cry. "This time," the phantom was shouting, "we will curse _you!_" And then all of the stuffed animals attacked the human, even the unicorn and the seraphin. "Rwarrr! EEEK!" Cassie made ripping and tearing and biting and clawing noises, for the attack on the human. Kristen shuddered and hurried on. "Die, human! Die!" Kristen heard Cassie shout as she left.

Kristen slipped into the kitchen and stared longingly at the refrigerator. She was _starving_, but she knew there wasn't any blood here, and she knew the only way she could possibly get some was to get to the church, so she stepped outside the backdoor and shoved on her boots before setting out in the rain toward the church. As she plodded down the paved, flooding street, Kristen plotted several ways to get back at that jerk that had tricked her, but none of them seemed cruel enough, or even remotely possible. What she did not see, however, as she left was Cassie peering at her from her bedroom window as she walked away into the night.

Kristen arrived at the church at ten past eight. Angela would have discovered her absence by now. She could not return home until the job was complete. Kristen sighed and ran down to where she just knew everyone would be. She noted the odd stillness, like even the church itself was holding its breath. Was she late? What was going on? Had they left without her? Kristen tripped and fell, sliding into the great golden doors that she had passed through just last Saturday. Groaning, Kristen stood and pushed open the heavy doors. Everyone was staring at her like a deer would a speeding eighteen-wheeler. Poor Kristen's mind went blank, so she did the only thing that came to mind. Standard Caught-On-Fire procedures. Stop. Drop. Roll. However, Kristen had forgotten one very important thing: she was standing on the first of three steps. And so she rolled of the first, banging into the second, bouncing off the third, and laid moaning on the floor. Kristen shut her eyes and when she opened them again that horrible, tricky vampyr was blocking the light with his pale face.

"You're an idiot. It's thoroughly disgusting," he spat, yanking harshly on her right arm until she was standing, their noses almost touching. "You are an embarrassment to the vampyric race," he hissed, his light sapphire eyes glaring into her emerald ones.

Kristen retorted, "You aren't any better." She considered sticking her tongue out at him, but though better of it. That would be too childish.

"Quit quarrelling, my children. We have not the time for such petty conflicts." Kristen and the boy turned away from each other, each one muttering darkly under their breath about the other. "As you all know," Father Nolatari continued, louder this time, so that his strong, commanding voice rang out among each vampyr in the crowd, "our settlement has been discovered by wyrwolves." The room went silent. Everyone understood what this meant, even the youngest vampyrs. "You also know that there are five among us who will defeat them." Kristen shifted uncomfortably, knowing that she was one of those five. But who were the other four? Father Nolatari answered her unspoken question almost as soon as the thought came to mind. "Kristen, Keira, Michael, Chrysis, would you be so kind as to join me up here?" Four bodies shuffled forward toward the small empty space right in front of Father Nolatari. _But that makes only four_, Kristen thought. She glanced at the other three. The boy beside her, Michael she guessed, looked just over five foot and had perfectly straight, honey brown hair and looked rather chubby. His skin was milk white, like he had never seen the sun, even as a small child, and had a few zits here and there, mainly on his face. He was even paler than the majority of the vampyrs in the room. Creepy. Michael had chocolate brown eyes (gosh she was hungry!) that were constantly wide with terror and obscured by large rectangular glasses. He clutched a thin laptop as if it was the only thing in the room that was connecting him to this world. He wore a crumpled white button-down shirt, black pants and shoes that seemed to have existed forever.

The girl beside him had short bleach blonde hair streaked red that was tied back with a black hair tie. She wore a blue tank top with a leather jacket over it and a pair of loose blue jeans just covering a pair of black hi-top Converse shoes. The cool stare she wore completed her dark, moody look.

The fourth person, another girl, looked farther away than the stars. Her stormy gray eyes suggested that she had no idea as to what was going on, caught up in her own little dreamland. She had caramel colored hair that reached down to her waist, even in its loose and poorly done braid. The girl wore baggy night camouflage cargo pants and a giant tie-dyed short sleeved shirt that was really more of a tent than a shirt, since it reached past her knees and the sleeves collided awkwardly with her elbows.

Father Nolatari smiled at them. "Do you all know and understand what is asked of you?" he asked in final confirmation. All four of them nodded. "Very well, my children."

He looked as if to say something more, but a young, clearly irritated male voice cut off the old man before he could go on. "Father! There are only four vampyrs you are addressing. Where is the fifth?" It was that mean, high-and-mighty vampyr again. Kristen wanted to kick him so hard he puked, but she did not want to ruin her boots and she had no idea where he'd stalked off to in the crowd.

Father Nolatari gave him an amused glance. "Why Dante, the fifth vampyr is you." His voice was full of feigned surprise, mocking the young vampyr. Dante gaped at him. "Yes _you_." Now Father Nolatari could no longer keep the amusement from his words (or his face) and his thin lips twitched, as if resisting the urge to smile or smirk. Kristen inwardly groaned. Ugh! How she despised that annoyingly superior jerk. "Someone needs to be the voice of caution," the old man continued, "and they all still have yet to be trained." His ancient golden eyes twinkled, laughing, though the rest of him was not. Dante shut his mouth and glared at Kristen and the others. He obviously was not pleased with this arrangement, and, to be quite frank, neither was Kristen. Father Nolatari motioned them closer.

"Come with me. You will be fed and sent home. Tomorrow you will leave Cerentia." Father Nolatari slid off his golden perch and led them into a significantly smaller room that had six chairs sitting around a small round table that had five tall topaz glasses on top in front of five of the chairs. The ancient man strode around the oak table and sat directly facing the only entrance and exit. Dante sat just to the right of Father Nolatari and the bleach blonde girl sat directly to the old man's left. Michael shuffled forward to keep the hippie-looking girl from sitting beside the other girl, so she sat beside Dante. Kristen sat down last between Michael and the hippie girl, facing Father Nolatari.

Father Nolatari gestured toward the glasses. "Drink," he commanded, "It will ease your hunger." Immediately Dante took his glass and drank deeply from it. He knew exactly what it was and was grateful for it.

The hippie girl turned to Kristen and spoke in a dreamy, rather zoned out and far away tone. "I'm Chrysis," she said. "Michael is my older brother, through adoption. Keira is the other girl." A puzzled look crossed her face as she continued. "I don't think she likes me very much. She glared at me when I asked her what her favorite color was." Chrysis took a sip of her drink, found it was good, and gulped down the rest. Keira sipped on her drink as if she was not hungry at all, and merely drank out of politeness. Michael looked as if he was concentrating on something other than what he seemed to be trying to drink. Most of it tried to make a dire break for escape, but somehow all of it managed to get into Michael's mouth. Kristen picked up her glass and sniffed it cautiously. Blood! . . . Well, what had she been expecting? Fruit punch? Cherry Kool-aid? Kristen grimaced.

"Father Nolatari, I can't drink this," Kristen announced.

"And why not, my dear?" Father Nolatari answered, his gold eyes glinting in the half light. He sounded, to be quite frank, amused. Apparently the old guy found nearly everything amusing. Or maybe he just knew what she was about to say.

"Because I'm a vegetarian." Kristen was going to elaborate, but Keira cut her off, rudely too.

"Not any more." Keira's dark mood coupled with her smooth, superior way of talking reminded Kristen strongly of her mental image of how an assassin or someone in a similar trade would act on their time off. "You are a vampyr now. That's all you can eat." As an after thought, Keira added, "Pretty good, if you ask me."

"Well too bad, because no one did ask you." Dante snapped. So he wasn't exclusively picking on her. Kristen scowled and took as sip of her tall topaz cup. Gross! It was still warm, but at least it would keep her from starving.

"I was going to," Chrysis said, as if she wasn't quite in tune with what everyone else was talking about. Dante merely scowled in her direction and hunched over his empty glass. Michael seemed to sag a bit, as if he had been tense and prepared to stop an argument if the need arose. Kristen's grimaces deepened as she gulped down the rest of the blood in one go to get it over with as quickly as possible. Chrysis was perfectly oblivious to the entire party and decided it was too quiet . . . So she began humming 'You Are My Sunshine.' Apparently, that was a mistake, because Keira had a conniption. The flesh seemed to be ripped from her face and replaced by flame and then her eyes erupted with lava. At least, that's how it would have looked if Keira had been a cartoon character.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?" Chrysis asked, all innocence.

"She wants you to stop humming, Chrissy," Michael said hurriedly before Keira could yell again at his little sister. Right then, Kristen thought, Michael looked like the younger sibling.

"Why? Mother always sings it to us. What's wrong with it?"

"I hate it! That's what's wrong with it, stupid! Get over it and shut your ugly face!" Keira screeched. Tears welled up in Chrysis's now no longer stormy gray eyes.

"But it's a good song . . ." She did not seem to have noticed the insult to her intelligence and appearance at all. Kristen felt a wave of affection for the girl. She wished she could have the strength or whatever it was to just not register insults like that. Maybe if she could, she wouldn't trip so often. Now that's an idea . . .

"Chrissy, she didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Really, she – " Michael's reassuring voice was cut off by Keira's shriek of rage, her pure hatred now redirected.

"Oh yes I did, you loser! Keep your idiot, nerdy nose out of things you can't understand!" Keira and jumped up to emphasize her point – and to growl menacingly in Michael's face. Kristen was appalled by her behavior. Why had she reacted so strongly to a simple hummed song? Or was it the hummer?

"Shut up Keira!" Dante yelled. Chrysis was sobbing now, her face buried in her hands, with her knees tucked up against her wrists. "Sit down," he hissed loudly, fiercely. If Keira's problem was with Chrysis, what was Dante's over-protectiveness of her? Or was it just a moral issue? Kristen nearly laughed at that, despite the tension in the room. Dante, moral? No way.

"Why'd you yell at Mike, Keira? He didn't say anything to you and he wasn't humming anything either," Chrysis managed to choke through her slowly calming sobs.

"Because she was angry and he happened to say something to the wrong person at the wrong time," Kristen answered automatically and without much emotion. She'd already assessed the situation, and accurately too. Angela always said that her mind was too much for her body; her mother's explanation for her seemingly constant imbalance.

Father Nolatari stood, shaking his head sadly. "You as well as the rest of us shall perish if none of you open and accept one another," he said ominously, a hint of regret to his voice, or was she imagining that? Then, on a lighter note, "I suggest you all return home and get a good day's rest. You will all have to leave at dusk to be well into the forest by dawn. I'm certain Dante can guide your through the surrounding woodland." At this Dante's pale face flushed crimson and his pale eyes fell to the glass in his equally pale hand. Was it just her, or were his eyes gleaming?

He, along with the other vampyrs, had been forbidden to leave the city. However, unlike the other vampyrs who were intelligent enough to do as instructed, Dante had been thrashed many a time for exploring the woods. Father Nolatari glanced at Dante with something akin to sympathy before leaving the room. Chrysis had lifted her head then, and stared curiously at the two older vampyrs.

After a long, silent moment, Chrysis spoke up. Well, not really. Her voice was quiet, no more than a whisper, but it sure sounded loud to the five of them. "Kristen," she said, "you can spend the day with me and Mike at our house. Mother won't mind. She likes meeting our friends." Chrysis beamed at Kristen, folding her legs beneath her and straightening her back, having completely forgotten the previous argument.

"Disgusting," Keira muttered harshly under her breath as she stalked out of the room, a cheetah having been outrun by its prey. Dante sighed and padded out after her. Michael finished what was left of his drink and scurried to the door, hovered beside it to wait for his sister. Kristen towered over Michael as she stepped carefully after him. Towered for the moment anyway. She tripped and barely missed knocking off his glasses as she fell.

"Klutz," he teased as she picked her self up. "Chrissy!" Michael called. "We need to go home to Mother now." Kristen noticed he spoke as if to a small child. Chrysis bounded over and stared into his honey brown eyes and, after a moment, giggled. Kristen also noted she was a good three and a half inches taller than her older brother.

"Come on then, slow poke!" Chrysis laughed, jogging out of the room and over the mosaic cardinal. Michael smiled, shrugged at Kristen and ran after her. Kristen attempted to follow suit, but kept tripping and falling over nothing. Her mind was so crammed full of impossibilities and questions and "what if's" that she hardly noticed. She followed them recklessly all the way to their house.

Their home was two stories high and looked like some abandoned house, haunted by its previous occupants. The white paint was chipped and in some places completely gone. Chipped green shutters hung from old, rusted hinges. A breeze shook the old, gnarled tree in the yard, an old witch's hand raised up from the parched earth, beckoning the closer. The place almost smelled like hickory and honeysuckle, only tainted with rotted wood or something. Kristen shuddered and sped after her new friends.

The inside of their house was far different from the outside. Inside it was warm and cozy and inviting, comfortably messy, and the smell of baking cinnamon rolls hit Kristen like a brick wall. Luckily she didn't fall because of it. The dark brown carpet was soft enough to sleep happily upon and the green, gold, crème, and red walls were covered with computer generated pictures, hand drawn art, paintings, and a few photographs taken of the forest surrounding Cerentia. You could barely see the color of the walls through all the art reaching from the deep blue ceiling to the soft brown carpet. Not only that, but everything was covered with a thin layer of dust as well, and it smelled like baking cinnamon rolls.

"Chrissy? Mike? That you?" a soothing, pleasant voice called from the kitchen.

"Yep, Mother!" the two siblings chorused and happily jogged into the kitchen. After time enough for two monstrous hugs, a woman about half a foot shorter than Kristen emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large, battered cookie sheet piled with tongue-burning hot cinnamon rolls. (No wonder it smelled so good inside.) She smiled at Kristen and set her tray down her tray on the coffee table in the living room and strode over to the giant girl standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"You guys didn't tell me you were brought a friend," she called over her shoulder to her children. "Hello there, my name is, officially, Mrs. Weatherspun, but I prefer Holly." She laughed, "Mrs. Weatherspun makes me feel old, which I am, don't get me wrong, but I don't need to be reminded of it all the time."

Her gray eyes twinkled, the kind of constant twinkle that suggests a soft glow from within. Holly had shoulder-length honey brown hair, like her son, and wore a simple short-sleeved periwinkle blue shirt and worn-and-torn blue jeans. Her feet were bare, but her toe nails were painted alternating hot pink and burnt orange, as were her finger nails. She continued, "I'm going to give you a little quiz – " Seeing Kristen's horrified look she added, "Oh no, it's just a few questions and none of them are very hard at all." Holly smiled reassuringly at her. "If you want, you can eat some of the rolls I just pulled out of the oven while we're at it." Holly turned to grab a couple of those very same cinnamon rolls she had been talking about to find Michael sneaking up the stairs with the tray, presumably to his room.

"Michael!" Holly said: there was no need to shout. To Kristen he said, "No one ever calls him by his full name unless he's in trouble. One of the reasons I named him that." Michael had stopped mid-stride and sheepishly returned to the living room, handing his mother the tray. He glared at Chrysis who was failing miserably in the attempt to stifle her laughter. She smiled happily at him and he guiltily grinned at Holly who laughed and hugged him.

"Anyway," Holly said, returning her attention to the stranger in her living room, "Want a cinnamon roll?" She offered one to Kristen who nodded and gratefully took it. It was warm and gooey and sticky, the kind of baked goods that make your mouth water. Kristen wondered vaguely where Holly learned to cook. "So what's your name?"

"Kristen," she said, plopping down on the soft beige leather sofa. But before she had fully sat down, she jumped right back up again. She had sat on top of a cat! The fuzzy thing looked up at her as if to say, 'Yeah, you sat on me. Why'd you get up?' She scooted the dark brown tabby off the cushion and tried that number again, this time completing the maneuver. Chrysis scooped up the irate cat and coaxed him into purring and not screeching at his assailant.

"Well, Kristen, first question. How old are you?" Holly asked.

"Sixteen."

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Favorite number?"

"Three."

"Favorite food?"

"Shrimp."

"Favorite drink?"

"Orange soda."

"Favorite holiday?"

"Halloween and Christmas."

"Birthday?"

"June eleventh."

Holly smiled. "Then your Zodiac sign is a Gemini. Gemini and Aquarius are compatible with Libra, which is what Chrysis is." Chrysis looked up, puzzled.

"What about me?" she asked and Michael filled her in. Chrysis smiled and resumed mashing the tabby cat's fur down.

Most of the cinnamon rolls had disappeared and reappeared digesting in stomachs by that time and Michael left the room randomly after a moment. Kristen began to wonder why she wasn't feeling sick when Michael returned and answered that particular question.

"Chrissy and I refused to be sired if Mother wasn't sired, too, so Father Nolatari let me sire her." Michael displayed his bottle of Sirewater. It was just a bit less full than hers. "Mother started putting a bit of cow's blood in everything we eat, so if we always drink a cup of straight cow's blood, we won't throw up our food." He threw Kristen a triumphant looked before passing out black mugs to the four vampyrs in the living room. "Chrysis figured out how to do it, though. She figures out a whole crap load of things." Chrysis smiled warmly and buried her face into the tabby cat's soft brown belly as if in response, but not quite.

"So Kristen," Holly said, stealing back the girl's attention, "what was the first thing I asked you?" She was smiling, which suggested a trick question, but Kristen answered anyway, and in Jeopardy format, no less.

"What is 'what is your name?'?" Kristen answered.

Holly grinned. "Nope," she said, shaking her head. "I asked if you wanted a cinnamon roll just before that." Kristen had been right. It was a trick question.

"Since you asked me a bunch of questions, may I ask you're a few?" Kirsten asked. Holly nodded once, overjoyed to have someone return the favor.

"First, how old are you?"

"Now that's a rude question to ask a woman," Holly said but answered anyway. She was thirty-six.

"How old is Michael?" she asked.

"Mike," he piped up, irritated at someone other than his own mother calling him Michael. Kristen ignored him.

"He's seventeen."

"And Chrysis?"

"We don't rightly know," Holly answered. "Somewhere around fifteen, though."

This was certainly interesting. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Roughly a year and a half ago she showed up on our doorstep asking to be allowed to sleep on the couch and eat a meal with us. Of course, we let her in and she and Mike got along famously. Well, one night turned into seven and one meal turned into twenty-one, so Mike asked if it was alright if we adopted her. We offered the idea up to her and, oh my, how Chrysis reacted! She was practically bouncing off the walls with joy!" Holly smiled at the memory. Chrysis seemed to be paying attention and Mike definitely was, because he, too, was grinning from ear to ear.

"Why don't we all go to sleep?" suggested Chrysis. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm pooped." At this Chrysis yawned (and so did the writer) and followed Chrysis up to her bedroom and promptly passed out on the floor in the doorway. Chrysis smiled down at Kristen's exhausted form and laid a blanket over her and slipped a pillow under her head. She took down her hair and snuggled down in her bed and soon fell asleep.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	4. First Night Out

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**First Night Out**

When Kristen awoke, it was an hour or so before dusk. She was jolted awake by the feel of someone's foot smashing her face in and falling backwards off of it. Kristen yelped and threw off the foot before sitting up and turning around to see who it was that had stepped so rudely on her while she slept. Turned out it was Michael.

"Michael!" she exclaimed, loudly, shock fueling her words.

"Mike, please. I hate Michael," he said. "Look, Chrysis borrowed my laptop the other day and forgot to give it back, so she sent me up here to get it while she packed up everything. She'll be mad I woke you up – she told me specifically to not do that. However, she neglected to mention that you were lying in the doorway." He smiled sheepishly at Kristen and stood up, then walked over to the closet. Mike had to push aside a whole bunch of multi-colored beads to reach in and grab what he was after.

Actually, every wall of Chrysis' was covered with strings of shiny, multi-colored shapes and figures. There were circles and beads and squares and triangles and every other shape imaginable in all the colors of the rainbow hanging against the walls. The walls were Kelly green and went well with the decorations, not to mention the furniture. Her desk was white with random stripes, dots, and swirls in every color all over it so you could barely see the base color. The bed was similar, only the base color was black, not white. The bookshelf and chest of drawers were both painted gray with red, white, and black dragons all over them. The deep blue ceiling and the dark brown carpet matched the living room as well.

Kristen stood and padded after Mike into the hall (like the living room, only the walls were gold and empty.) He stopped at a door, and grabbed the knob, but turned to stare oddly at Kristen when she stopped too. "Can't I go to the bathroom in peace?" he whined at her, pushing the door open. Like a bullet just shot, Kristen rushed down the stairs blushing blood red and leaving Mike alone upstairs.

"Kristen!" Chrysis exclaimed, looking up from the over-stuffed backpack she was attempting to zip up. "What are you doing up?" Kristen glanced warily at the two other backpacks about the burst and looked back at Chrysis.

"Mike tripped on my face trying to get his laptop," Kristen answered, shrugging. She stared again at the backpacks as Chrysis began stuffing another one.

"Do we really need that much stuff?" she questioned. Holly stepped out of the kitchen carrying four plates of pancakes and eggs and bacon. The pancakes had butter and very red syrup on them and the eggs were just plain scrambled, but the odd thing was that the bacon had the same red syrup drizzled over it. A closer look told Kristen it was blood, which made sense, seeing as the four of them were vampyrs.

"Chrysis thinks so," Holly laughed. "She packs enough to make a Boy Scout bow down in awe. In fact, one time a friend of Mike's did." As the woman said this, Chrysis was shoving five sets of throwing knives into the pack.

"Uh, Chrysis, what's with the knives?" Kristen asked nervously. Chrysis glanced up at her.

"We'll need weapons, silly, so we can eat and kill wyrwolves and defend ourselves," she answered, stuffing three Glock 9's into the pack along with several grenades, daggers, and ammunition. "The green backpack has clothing and whatnot in it for the five of us. The red one has food, and the blue one has cooking utensils and lighters and other randomly assorted necessary items. And this yellow one, of course, has weapons." Chrysis had been stuffing a couple more pistols and a bunch more ammunition into the backpack as she explained. In went grenades and other various explosives – carefully packed, of course. She zipped up the pack and set it down gently beside the other packs and grabbed an empty white backpack and began carefully setting bottles in it.

"Uh . . ." Kristen said, pointing at a bottle of ammonia Chrysis was putting into the backpack.

"This is my chemistry set. I use it to make the explosives." Chrysis grinned mischievously.

"She's creepy good at it," announced Michael as he walked in, looking much relieved. "She's quick at it and I swear she does it subconsciously, too. I've seen her moving her hands around in her sleep sometimes." Chrysis smiled at the odd compliment. "And what Chrissy makes is scary accurate. Hasn't messed up once." Chrysis beamed and stuck a small bucket into the white backpack before zipping it up and setting it a little away from the other backpacks.

Holly called the three of them into the dining room, which was a lot like the living room only cleaner, a hardwood floor, and considerably less dust. She had the four plates set out on the rectangular table. A cup of blood was beside each plate with the forks and knives on the other side. They four of them sat down and quickly devoured the delicious meal, fit for even Cain himself.

When they'd finished, Kristen asked a very important (and very over-looked) question. "Where will we meet up with Keira and Dante?" Utter silence.

"The church?" Mike suggested hesitantly.

"But if the wyrwolves are watching the church, we can't go there!" Chrysis argued.

"Dante would have gone to Father Nolatari first," muttered Kristen.

"Father Nolatari would have told him where we are and where Keira lives," declared Holly. "I suggest we stay here for a bit. I'm sure that Dante will be here soon." Mike, Chrysis, and Kristen nodded at the logical sense and put their dishes in the sink for Holly to wash after they left.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Someone said something about Dante and Chrysis swung open the door.

"Get out of the doorway!" Keira growled, shoving past Chrysis. Keira did not look any different from the last time Kristen has seen her, expect she now wore a white tank top instead of blue. Dante slipped in after her, shooting Chrysis an apologetic look that only Holly and Kristen caught. He wore a black tee shirt with dark blue skinny jeans and black tennis shoes.

"I'd appreciate it if you would be polite to everyone under my roof, dear," Holly demanded sweetly but sternly. Keira glared at Holly and Chrysis in turn and crossed her arms over her chest. Chrysis did not seem to have noticed Keira's rudeness and instead asked her and Dante if they had eaten.

"Of course I've eaten! I don't need some freak of nature trying to be my mother!" Keira snapped. Both Holly and Mike took a step toward the offender and Dante made a move to calm her to her usual simmering point. However, it was Kristen who responded.

"_You_ are a freak of nature, too. We _all_ are."

Keira positively exploded.

"At least I wasn't one before I was sired like you and that loser!" Keira shouted, turning on Kristen.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would refrain from disputing such trivial matters in my home," Holly practically growled, sending Keira a death glare to make even the toughest man cringe, though Keira glared defiantly at her.

"Um . . . Am I the only one who needs a translation?" Kristen asked, glancing nervously at the others.

"No . . ." Dante muttered quietly, trying to unscramble the meaning.

"Shut up and do as I say!" hollered Holly. "Now, sit down. I'm certain Chrysis would just love to inform us of what all she has packed." The commanding looks she gave everyone stopped the words in their throats. As instructed, they all sat down in the living room and fortunately this time Kristen did not sit on the cat. Rather, the cat claimed Dante as its new favorite place to be and promptly passed out, stretching its long, short-furred body across Dante's lap, hanging off his knees. Dante absent-mindedly stroked the cat as Chrysis happily rattled off the list of the items she had stuffed into each color-coded backpack. When she got to explaining the chemistry set in the white backpack, Dante interrupted her.

"How old are you?" he asked, seemingly irate.

Confused, Chrysis answered. "Fifteen. Why?"

"When did you start making explosives?" Dante questioned.

"Four. Why?" Chrysis replied.

Dante shook his head like someone who was severely disappointed in someone else. "Someone that young shouldn't have been blowing things up," he stated simply.

"How old are you?" Mike asked, changing the subject.

"Sired or actual?"

"Yes."

"I was seventeen when I was sired. I'll turn one hundred seventeen on October twenty-third," Dante responded promptly.

"Libra! You value fairness and loyalty . . ." Holly prattled on about the eighth zodiac. When she finished, every single other vampyr in the room was staring at her in shocked silence, except Chrysis who probably hadn't been paying any attention in the first place.

"I like the Western Zodiac . . ." was Holly's answer to the stares. "Anyway, you guys need to get moving." Holly stood and grabbed the white pack to hand to her daughter.

"Hold on. I'm not going anywhere with someone who can blow me to smithereens at the drop of a hat unless I've got the chemicals she needs!" objected Keira, glaring at the blonde girl. Chrysis looked as if she was about to start crying again.

Mike's voice of reason cut in, "But if we don't have any weapons ready and we need some quick and we're on the run, Chrysis won't be able to help because you'll have the pack."

"I'll give it to her then," Keira stated hotly, refusing to give up her point.

Dante grimaced. "And if we're all too busy fighting? What then?" he asked sourly.

"The she wouldn't have time to make anything anyway," Keira retorted.

"Just let her keep her pack!" shouted Kristen, already sick to death of the constant fighting, and they hadn't even seen a single wyrwolf yet! Begrudgingly, Keira relented. Everyone, including Kristen and Chrysis, seemed relieved Keira wasn't going to continue on her warpath.

They each loaded up with the backpacks Holly handed each of them. Keira took the Random Necessary Items backpack, or the blue backpack. Since Keira despised Chrysis, the group figured that if Keira had the pack with the matches and lighters, then she wouldn't accidentally set fire to Chrysis's chemicals. Chrysis took her white pack and Dante took the main weapons pack, or the yellow backpack. Mike received the green backpack, the pack that held all the clothes, because fabric really wouldn't affect his laptop in the slightest. Kristen took the red backpack that held all the food and they all took their respective sleeping bags.

They said goodbye to Holly and left the house using the alleyway, completely against Kristen's better judgment. However, while walking toward the nearest exit, Dante brought a very important question.

"How do we get out of Cerentia with all this?" He shook his yellow backpack very slightly, to show the other vampyrs what he was talking about. Of course, that action earned himself an angry glare from Keira and a terrified glance form Mike – after all, he was carrying all the weapons and explosives. Dante ignored the reaction and continued, "There's metal detectors. We'll get caught for sure!"

Chrysis smiled. "Not if we load up someone with all the weapons and give them my pants and jacket. I thought through escaping while I was packing." The five of them ducked into a discreet alleyway to bicker over what their story would be, who would be the pack mule, and other finer details.

Always thinking technically, Mike suggested, "They could have a chip in their head!"

"That would work, but we still need a dummy," Keira stated having lost her mood for arguing now that they were doing something productive.

"Who has enough surface area to stick everything on?" Dante asked with his brow furrowed in concentration. To this everyone, excluding Kristen and Dante, looked expectantly at Kristen who was by far the tallest.

"Me? I'm not so sure about this . . ." To Kristen was strapped the entirety of their weapons department, covered by Chrysis' largest pants (the one's she'd worn over her baggy jeans) as well as Chrysis' long khaki duster. Thus attired, the group made their way to the edge of the city.

The way in and out of the city was divided into two groups – in and out. No one was near either the exit or the entrance, except the officers authorized to run them through the huge metal detecting gateway. Looking through the gate was like looking through a huge magical portal into an entirely different and exotic new world. Where they were, in Cerentia, was a technological paradise but completely void of nature. On the other side of those forbidding gates was a beautiful forest fresh out of winter with no signs of any technology to obstruct the beauty of nature. Would their plan work?

The authorities had not noticed the five of them approaching due to the attention-capturing card game. Only when Dante, sure-footed and in the lead, was two feet away form the metal detectors, did they responded to the presence of the vampyrs.

"Hey kids, you going out?" one of the men asked. Dante nodded in confirmation. "Right." The official stepped out of the steel building and set a large cardboard box down on the pavement. "Stick all your metal items in here and step through the detector." Dante, now wearing Kristen's pack, set the backpack into the box and stepped through the detector. Beep! "Come back, boy. What did you forget?" Dante blinked once, groaned, and pulled his necklace out from underneath his shirt, careful to let only the officer see it.

"We all have one, so our parents know where we're at." He jerked his head toward the other four.

The officer nodded, "Right then. You can go get them fancy little trackers and walk through." Dante nodded and walked back to the others, pretending to take each necklace from them, whispering to each of them, "Taking off your necklace for more than a few seconds will kill you – keep it on at all times." He walked back to the detector, pretending he had all the necklaces in hand. The officer searched through Kristen's red pack and passed it to Dante wordlessly. Keira handed the man her pack and stepped through, slipping off her necklace and passing it to Dante around the detector as she walked through. As she quickly replaced her necklace, the man passed Dante her pack. Mike passed through it with no trouble, doing what Keira did with his necklace. Then it was Kristen's turn.

Kristen padded through, not bothering to remove her pack. Beeeeeep! She backed out and stepped through again. And again. "I'm afraid I can't let you out, honey," the official finally said.

Dante stepped toward the man. "Please," he said, not entirely sure what lie he'd spit out to get the man to let Kristen through, or even if he'd tell the truth and get rid of her. "My sister, she has a disease. She needs to have an inhaler on her and her medicine tin." The officer looked at him funny, the look Kristen usually received. "She may die if she doesn't have her inhaler, and the medicine tin is hooked up to her veins – otherwise, she'll probably snap and kill everything in sight. It's happened once before, in our old town." The random lies Dante spewed from his mouth shocked the officer into letting Kristen pass, absolutely terrified of what the terribly tall teen would do to him if he didn't. She stared at him coldly as she stepped through yet again, the alarm ringing in her ears even after it stopped.

Chrysis sat on the ground directly in front of the metal detector and removed her pack, taking out each and every chemical and utensil very carefully.

"I want to experiment with the plant life," she said simply, smiling up at the officer. Awkwardly, he waved her through, ignoring the loud _beep_ that Chrysis and her equipment triggered.

With Dante guiding them, the group headed due west away from the city in a direct line from the gates they passed through. When they were out of earshot of Cerentia and certain that they were not being trailed, the group seemed to sag with relief. They walked 'til just before dawn in silence, which was probably the best idea. Keira found a well-sheltered place to sleep, just barely big enough for the five of them and their packs if they were real friendly.

Kristen ended up stuck between Keira, having few qualms with her, and Dante. Mike had insisted that Keira and Chrysis sleep at least one person apart because Chrysis tended to babble nonsense in her sleep and he refused to be separated from her. So Kristen was stuck between the two most irritable people she'd ever met for a day. However, over all, their first night out of Cerentia had been fairly quiet. Meaning there was very little arguing, which was a decidedly good thing.

Kristen awoke the next evening to some very bad singing. She blindly scrambled for a rock or large twig and upon grabbing a hefty rock she launched it in the general direction of the terrible singing. Unfortunately, being mostly asleep, she instead nailed Dante's pale nose, bent over the food he was attempting to make for the group.

"Hey!" Dante protested, "Look where you're chucking stuff at!" It was then Kristen noticed the left side of her body was colder than her right. She sat up and mumbled a half-conscious apology to the older vampyr. Keira woke then and, like Kristen, just wanted to horrible singing to cease. However, unlike Kristen, Keira took more time in locating the awful sound and judging the distance between her and the terrible creature creating the seriously off-key 'song'.

A beautiful cardinal toppled from its perch in the tall oak tree . . . straight into poor Mike's mouth, wide open in a yawn. Keira's rock collided with Chrysis' head, startling her awake too. Mike spat out the bird and looked as if he was about to eat it when Dante made an odd whimpering sound, like a puppy beaten one too many times.

"Do you know who that is?" he squeaked very quietly, like Mike did whenever Keira picked a fight with someone. His ice blue eyes were opened wide in fear though still obscured by long raven bangs as they had been when Kristen first saw him. The bird had stopped its awful attempt at singing; otherwise no one would have heard Dante over it. An eerie silence followed Dante's whispered question.

It was Father Nolatari. It had to be. No one else that could turn into a cardinal knew who or where they were. Michael had almost eaten their leader.

Suddenly, the cardinal spoke up. "If you don't mind, put me _down_!" Or . . . maybe not. Maybe it was some messenger for Father Nolatari. Kristen, seeing that no one else understood the bird, hesitantly translated the words.

"Great," Keira replied sarcastically. "Our group klutz is good for something after all. She can speak Bird!" A burst of anger surged up in Kristen for a second before she managed to cram it back into whatever dark corner it had been in. She was, too, good for something other than translating Bird!

"Shut up Keira! He wouldn't have sent Jeremy is it wasn't something really important!" hissed Dante.

"Jeremy?" Mike parroted blankly.

"A friend of His," Dante explained dryly, a hint of disgust in his voice, "and an absent-minded little twerp."

"I am not!" squawked Jeremy indignantly.

"He says he isn't," said Kristen. Dante snorted in contempt.

"And he can tell a decent joke worth a rat's tail."

"I can too!" Jeremy objected loudly.

"Quit arguing! We don't have the time for it!" snapped Kristen suddenly. In a slightly softer tone she said to Jeremy, "Did the old man send you?" Jeremy nodded and hopped a little closer to her as Mike let him go. "What did he say?"

"Said that uptight little know-it-all needs to get over some random thing and head northwest. Also said he'd send a few of his other friends for updating, and we won't all always be cardinals." At this point the red bird paused and ruffled his feathers, glancing over his shoulder at Mike, "So don't go eating any more birds 'cause they might just be a friend." He hopped into Kristen's outstretched arms while she translated for the other vampyrs, leaving out the bit about Dante being an 'uptight know-it-all' for obvious reasons.

"I bet there's more," commented Keira when Kristen had finished. "He wouldn't just leave us hanging like that with nothing to go on." A very valid point, and a correct theory, as it turned out.

"Elesin!" Jeremy squawked. "He said to go to Elesin! To see Cerevina! And keep to yourselves. Life is different outside Cerentia." Jeremy grew very quiet all of the sudden. "Very different . . ."

"He says to go to Elesin to see Cerevina. And that we need to keep to ourselves. Apparently things are really different out there."

"Well that's helpful," Mike said sarcastically.

"If you don't want my help, then I won't give it," Jeremy replied haughtily, insulted.

Just as he was about to take flight, Chrysis spoke. "Goodbye Jeremy," she said politely. "It was nice to meet you." Jeremy twitched his tail feathers happily in Chrysis' direction, appreciation clearly evident, and took off, flying away east, forgetting Dante's insults.

"Who is Cerevina and where is Elesin?" Mike asked no one in particular.

"No idea," Kristen responded. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Keira rolled her eyes. "So what do we do now?"

"Head northwest, like he said," Dante answered sourly, removing the well-cooked bacon from the frying pan he'd gotten out of the cooking pack and moved it to the fives plates with pancakes on them. He then took a water bottle, filled with blood of course, and drizzled its contents over the food. Chrysis grabbed a knife and fork for everyone and they ate in silence, all of them wondering where Elesin was and how they could possibly find a "Cerevina" in that city.

When the five of them were finished, they packed up and were about to leave when Keira stooped and snatched up a compass that had fallen out of her pack. Peering at it oddly, she glared at Chrysis. "What kind of crappy compass is this? It doesn't point north!" Very suddenly, everyone tensed up, anticipating another fight to break out between the two, but Chrysis merely smiled serenely in Keira's general direction.

"It's a moral compass." As if that explained anything.

"Why would we need this piece of junk?" Keira spat, intentionally insulting.

"It's not a piece of junk!" Chrysis proclaimed, very upset.

Luckily Mike intervened quickly. "She just wants to know why we have a moral compass instead of a normal one, Chrissy." He cast a worried glance at Dante to see if he was calming Keira down enough to see sense.

Before Keira could react, though, Kristen pulled a small pocket watch-shaped object from her jeans pocket and waved it around, nearly dropping it in the process thereof. "I have it!" she exclaimed, perhaps a little too loud.

Dante shot Chrysis a questioning look. "Why do we have a moral compass in the first place and how does it work?"

"I thought we could periodically check everyone for loyalty," she answered. "It'd be really bad if one of us or someone we trust is really trying to harm us." Chrysis paused, waiting for a response or maybe she just went back to La La Land or something for a second.

"Probably a good thing we have it then," Kristen murmured.

"How does it work?" Mike asked. Keira and Dante remained silent.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Why don't we walk while I tell you?" Dante took the lead, grim-faced and oddly upset over something. Kristen offered the regular compass, but he shrugged her off, mumbling something about knowing exactly where to go.

"You hold it and it spins around three times and then points to the direction, north, south, et cetera, in relation to whatever is programmed into the compass. For this compass, north is for people with good intentions who will help us. South is for them wanting to cause us harm or they just want to harm vampyrs in general. East is for wanting to just stay out of everything and west is for someone on either side, depending on the benefits and detriments to them. Anything in between is a combination of the points it's between."

Keira asked, "How do we know that's really the way it works? How can we be certain we can trust you?"

"How can we be certain we can trust _you_?" Mike muttered under his breath.

"He gave it to me when I woke up after he sired me and Mike. He told me what it was, how to use it, what it did, what he programmed into it and why he was giving it to me."

"Well," Kristen said, the finality evident in her tone. "If that's the case, then I say we all try it now, just to be absolutely sure we can trust each other." Suddenly Kristen tripped and fell flat on her face in the sodden dirt and Dante strolled away, whistling like a cartoon character after they dropped an anvil on some other character.

Kristen stood upright and glared daggers at Dante. If looks could kill, he'd be over-kill.

Dante flashed her a crooked grin. "You hadn't fallen since yesterday," he said by way of explanation. Kristen huffed angrily and stormed in between Mike and Keira so that she was no longer near Dante.

"Why don't we stop to do that compass thing?" Keira suggested mildly. Chrysis smiled at her but Keira glared in return. The five of them stopped and Keira handed Chrysis the moral compass. "You first," she said blandly.

Kristen was about to argue, but Chrysis cheerfully took the compass. It spun three times, first very fast, and then it slowed and remained at a fixed point at true north. No matter how much she twisted and turned it, it always remained point directly to the 'N'. Silently Chrysis passed it back to Keira.

Determined not to be beaten by some hippie wannabe, Keira took the moral compass when it was offered. It took three slow turns, as if it was making up its mind for where to point. The thin needle eventually came to a reluctant halt on the 'N' and would not budge. Keira wordlessly handed the compass to Michael.

Mike took the compass (and one insanely deep breath – so deep everyone thought he was going to pass out) and stared intently at the compass. The point spun exactly three times, jerkily, as if it were excited and hesitant, and stopped at north as it had for both Keira and Chrysis. He grinned and passed it off to Kristen.

The exact moment it touched Kristen's skin, the needle whirled around so fast you could barely even see the blur of it. By the time it was fully in Kristen's hand, it had already landed on north. Feeling dizzy and stunned, she handed it to Dante.

Absent-mindedly, the older vampyr took the moral compass from Kristen. He didn't even seem to realize he had it until the needle paused just east of north. When he glared at it, the needle suddenly jumped over a hair's breadth to the 'N'. He placed it in Chrysis' randomly outstretched hand. Both of them were staring off into some unknown world with little connection to reality, though Chrysis' world was definitely better than Dante's because his eyes were watering up.

"Well that settles it," announced Keira quietly. "We're all trustworthy. Now can we please keep moving? Who knows how long we have!" Keira's voice broke the spell that froze the vampyrs and they burst into action. Single file, the five vampyrs hiked northwest, walking away from the only home they had ever known.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	5. Rose

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Rose**

Dante sighed and sat heavily onto a fallen tree. His pale blue eyes were glazed over as if he was in great agony, but to Kristen he looked unhurt. Mike and Keira had gone to get firewood to cook what Keira had caught earlier that night, and Chrysis had wandered off somewhere, leaving Dante and Kristen alone at their makeshift camp with the packs.

It bothered Kristen how silent he was lately – not that it was a bad thing, it was just odd. He should have insulted her uncountable times all night, and he hadn't uttered a single syllable or made even the tiniest of noises, even when Kristen accidentally spilled water all over his shirt. Everyone else had glared at her (excluding Chrysis, who was off in Never-Never Land once more), but Dante said nothing and had stripped off his wet shirt. He was still shirtless, and it was unnerving. He could have at least grabbed another shirt, but he hadn't and here they were, stuck in a creepy clearing, alone, with nothing to do. It reminded Kristen of a really bad horror movie, these five or so teenagers all split up in a creepy forest with vampires and werewolves all over the place, never mind that they _were_ the vampires.

She poked the black-haired teen next to her. Dante shot her an irate glance without a word, maintaining his silent oath of silence. "You're too quiet!" she complained, poking his kidney once again, "You should have skinned me alive when I spilt water all over you, not to mention the time when I tripped into you when we started walking." Kristen advised herself that she had reminded Dante of too much already, and that it would be to her health to _not _mention that she'd fallen into him more than once, and that it was just him. Kristen had been thinking too hard about Dante's odd behavior, who this Cerevina person was, and where exactly Elesin was. Particularly Dante's odd behavior.

Dante, of course, remained silent.

"What's wrong with you?" Kristen whined loudly, poking the other vampyr several more times.

The black-haired teen beside her sighed heavily, letting his head drop. "A lot of things," he muttered bitterly, looking away from Kristen.

She'd gotten him to say something! And it wasn't an insult! Yay!

"For example?" she started to ask, but cut herself off and instead said something entirely different. "Is Dante even your real name?" However, it sounded more something like this: "For examed Auhnt aven yereal name?"

Dante half-lifted his head to stare strangely at Kristen, a ghost of a smile touching his pale lips. "Run that by me again?"

He responded! Hahaha! Slower this time, Kristen said, "Is Dante even your real name?"

Dante shook his head: no.

"What did it use to be?" Kristen asked, interested. What could have possibly been his real name before Dante? Why did he change it? But prying answers from him was like interrogating a three-year-old: translation, near impossible.

"Promise not to laugh?" He sat up straight now, having been hunched over before. Kristen nodded and he turned toward her, motioning her closer, obviously not happy about telling anyone. Obediently, Kristen leaned toward him, but, because her mind was on other things, she wasn't paying attention, and so she tipped over until his bare, pale chest stopped her head.

"I didn't mean lay on me!" Dante protested, frantically throwing her off of him. He looked positively terrified. Kristen, thoroughly embarrassed, sat up and stared at him. Conveniently ignoring his jerky, paranoid movements, she asked if he was going to tell her what is name used to be or not. The question seemed to calm the older teen, though why he was so twitchy was well beyond Kristen. He stopped jerking and glanced around warily, like his was expecting a wyrwolf ambush or something.

"Yeah . . . Yeah I will." Dante had slumped when he'd quit flinching randomly, but now he wrinkled up his nose in annoyance. "But only if you promise not to lay on me again." Kristen flushed scarlet and nodded. This time, having learned his lesson, he leaned in toward Kristen.

Dante cupped his left hand around Kristen's ear, to block in the sound, and barely breathed as he whispered, "Pansy." His normally cool, sneering face was currently a bright scarlet color, and it was difficult to keep from laughing, as she'd promised. Her lips twitched into a smile as struggled to keep it from showing.

"Pansy?" she asked on the verge of exploding into insane fits of giggles, just barely managing to control herself. Dante nodded. "Are you serious?" This time, Dante scowled at her. It was obvious he had told the truth, really. Honestly, who would make up a name like _that_, especially if they were a boy? Besides, she could hear the truth in his voice just as well as she could in any one else's, which was surprisingly well. Kristen clamped her hands over he mouth to restrain herself from laughing outright.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he asked worriedly. Kristen shook her head from side to side in over-exaggerated movements. She was not certain she could talk without the words crumpling into laughter, and she'd promised she wouldn't laugh. What was a person, if not their word, deed, and loyalty? She would not tell, nor would she laugh. Around him anyway.

When Kristen had calmed down sufficiently she asked, "Why'd you change it? I mean, aside from the _glaringly obvious_, and all." Dante remained silent for a long time, head bent to throw his black hair into his face and his pale hands clasped behind his neck. He looked as if he just might have cried, or he already was.

"When my sister died," he all but whispered. "She was wonderful. Kind. Intelligent. Pretty. Energized." His lips twitched but did not form a smile, "Absent minded. I sired her about three years after being sired myself, after our mother died. They both really liked flowers." The almost-smiled faded and a pained look returned to his face. "About nine months after that, I took her out here to the forest to explore. She'd always wanted to come with me, even though Father Nolatari had forbidden it." Here he choked up and it seemed to Kristen he would not be able to go on, but it seemed she was wrong, for he did continue, though haltingly as tears welled up in his eyes. "I shouldn't have. We stopped here to rest and talk, just like you and me now. She felt something, or saw it, or heard it. I don't know, but she told me to head back, that we had to. And I . . . I ignored her." The tears were streaming freely now. "I ignored her and started putting things back into our packs, and she told me we didn't have the time. She told me and told me!" He slammed a fist into his leg, no doubt bruising horribly, with the force he put behind it. Kristen didn't fancy being the wyrwolf he got his hands a hold of. "Why couldn't I see it before, when it mattered?" he moaned softly, burying his face into his palms, probably biting his lip to shreds.

Instinctively, Kristen spoke softly, quietly, soothingly, though what she had to say was definitely going to distress him. "The wyrwolves got her, didn't they?" Yep, definitely distressing. He nodded, gasping out 'yes'.

"They were so blindly furious, so vicious, so _hateful_. They killed her, tore her to shreds. I still remember her screams; see her blood in my nightmares. Lord, there was blood everywhere. I couldn't stop them, couldn't do anything. She told me to run, to run while I still had the chance. There was no way she'd have been able to get away, no matter what anyone did. They'd surrounded her, all of them. I still can't figure why they left me alone and focused on her. Maybe they didn't realize that I was a vampyr too. But she told me to run, so I did. My leg was torn apart and broken, but I still ran. How, I don't know, but I managed." Dante slammed his fists into the ground, sliding forward off the log onto his knees.

"If only I hadn't every disobeyed Father Nolatari, or if I hadn't brought her with me . . . Hell, if I'd just been _paying attention_!" He bashed the grass with his right fist, slumping forward and curling his shoulders into his chest, wrapping his arms around himself, sobbing and sobbing, his anger and rage poured out onto the clearing, flooding everything with its penetrating presence. Dante's pale forehead pressed against the damp soil, the sand sticking to his skin.

Kristen was utterly lost. If she touched him, he might flip out, but if she didn't, he wouldn't stop, or else it'd take forever to get him to calm down. Choose the lesser of two evils. She would rather deal with Dante hating her again than to have to explain why Dante was bawling his eyes out. Cautiously, as if approaching a wild beast, Kristen placed her hand on Dante's back. How did they calm down people in movies? Ah yes, murmuring soothing words and holding them. Ew, holding Dante. _Le sigh._ _If it will get him back to at least Silent Dante before Keira, Michael, or Chrysis get back, so be it._ Kristen slid down to the ground, patting Dante and murmuring the most random things. Eventually Dante calmed down.

After a long, silent pause, "Why'd you name your cat Lime if it was red?" Dante asked, not moving.

Another pause. "He smelled like limes when we first got him."

"That's retarded . . . You know what? You're retarded. Get your hand off my back." Dante sat up, stretching almost like a cat and Kristen took her hand away, really glad he was calmed down now. She had no idea what else to do if he got like that again. Maybe more Lime stories would work. Upset Dante really liked those. Dante rubbed out the red from his eyes and sat up on the log, Kristen sitting up there with him.

Quietly, he asked, "You won't tell, will you?" His voice was hoarse and barely above a murmur, but in the silence his voice sounded eerily loud.

"No," Kristen replied, just and quiet though not as hoarse, "I won't." Dante nodded gratefully and neither of the spoke for a long time.

"You know, this used to be my favorite place to think," Dante whispered half to himself.

"Really?" questioned Kristen. He only nodded sadly.

When Keira and Mike returned with their arms full and faces flushed and Mike in the lead, Dante looked normal and had resumed his 'silent treatment'. Kristen understood very well why. The others would suspect something happened and probably jump to all the wrong conclusions, conclusions that she really did _not_ want to think about.

"Did you two have fun?" Mike asked, just to break the silence after the fire was roaring and the meat cooking (after most of the blood had been drained into the water bottles, of course). Dante glared at Mike until the smaller, younger vampyr shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting.

"Did you and Keira?" Mike looked down, as if ashamed of something and rubbed his shoulder subconsciously.

"Yes," Keira stated automatically. "I had loads of fun hitting Mike every time he was about to say something incredibly stupid."

"You beat the crap out of me every time I opened my mouth," Mike complained. It was apparent to Kristen that though this might have been true, it was covering something else. And then another thought hit her. Was that the same feeling her mother got when she told her half-truths? Was that why she always got caught?

"You know you were going to say something stupid. Admit it. I did you a favor," Keira retorted harshly.

"I don't think violence is necessary right now," Kristen interjected uncertainly. She seriously did not want yet another fight.

"And of course this is coming from a _vegetarian_," Keira's sharp tongue lashed. "Honestly, how pathetic can you get?"

"I could be you," Kristen replied hotly, rage flaring up. She forgot all about keeping the peace as she continued on, "Or worse – oh wait, it can't _get_ any worse."

Just as Keira was about to verbally assault Kristen again, Mike interrupted. "Guys!" His voice was squeaky and it clearly displayed how terrified he was of a fight. Dante flat ignored the three of them as he watched the red and orange flames lick the skinned, dry meat over the fire. Every few seconds he turned the stick the meat was on a bit to cook it evenly.

Keira glared daggers at Mike. "I think someone needs to get their nose out of someone else's business and keep it out!" she snarled loudly.

Kristen stared coolly at Keira. "I agree." Her voice was ice cold water, just barely contained by a sheet of sleet.

"I'm glad," she sneered.

"I think we should all just calm down and talk reasonably like civilized people!" Mike squeaked, his nervousness betrayed.

"I think," Dante murmured quietly, threateningly, "that we should all just shut up or by whatever god you worship, I'll come over there and beat all the talk out of you, all of you." Dante's quiet voice was far more effective than if he'd been yelling. After going most of the day silent, it was a shock to hear him speak at all. His quiet tone meant he was too fed up with the lot of them to talk loudly so they could hear him. More chance to beat the crap out of them if they spoke over him.

Dante's logic proved sound: as for the rest of the night everyone remained silent. Everyone was lost deep in their own thoughts, each stirring slightly but never enough to break the silence. No one said anything when Chrysis returned just before dawn, when she curled up between Mike and Kristen without even taking the time to crawl into her sleeping bag.

Later, in the morning when the sun was nearing its highest point in the sky, Kristen was awoken. To be precise, Kristen was _kicked_ awake. She groaned and glared to the left at the source of the kicking. Apparently Chrysis got violent when she was lost in a nightmare. Kristen was mildly surprised. For all the world, Chrysis seemed like a non-violent person even in sleep. It was what she was moaning that caught Kristen's exhausted attention, though.

"Danger . . . Danger . . ." Chrysis mumbled as she tossed and turned. Now fully awake, Kristen listened closer.

"Danger . . . Death . . . Fear . . ." Chrysis moaned and rolled over. "Pain . . . Danger . . . Danger . . ." Kristen considered waking her sleeping companion, but decided against it. Hadn't Mike said that Chrysis sometimes babbled in her sleep? Nevertheless, when Kristen finally dropped back off into sleep she was worried and a little bit scared.

_It was night again and a warm fire was blazing in the mostly empty camp. A young, care-free girl sat on a log, grinning widely from ear to ear. Her light brown hair, glowing golden red in the light, was braided poorly in a way that kind of reminded me of Chrysis, not to mention the fact that they both had gray eyes. A boy, older than her, sat at her side laughing at something she'd said but I hadn't quite caught. He had short, straight, raven black hair with moon pale skin and ice blue eyes. It took me a few moments to realize I was looking at Dante and his little sister as they were a long time ago, when she was still alive. It was astonishing just how different Dante was back then. Back then he smiled and laughed; now he was quiet and insulting. I heard a faint growl from outside the camp, but Dante and his sister didn't. I tried and tried to warn them, but nothing I said or did worked, though the girl did glance at me a whole lot. Again the wyrwolves I knew were there growled, louder this time, though Dante at least didn't notice._

"_Pans! I think we should head back now," she girl said worriedly, glancing back at me._

"_Ah, Rose, we have time. No need to go back now," Dante replied._

"_Pansy! I really think we should go home now," Rose said, her voice rising in ill-disguised fear. Dante stopped and looked at her, his head tilted slightly._

"_Alright, Rose, we'll head home. Just gimme a minute to put out the fire and grab the packs." Rose shook her head and tugged on Dante's sleeve._

"Now_ Dante! We have to _go_!" Dante had just zipped up his backpack when the wyrwolves struck. There are no words to describe what happened next, no words gruesome or cruel enough, but this is as close as it gets. _

_There looked to be thousands of the horrid, blood-thirsty creatures, ripping apart anything that got in their way. I could hear Rose's shriek in terror as a wyrwolf lunged for her. Another wyrwolf sunk its teeth into the back of Rose's calf. The first one missed her flailing arm by only a few centimeters as a third wyrwolf attacked her, clamping its strong jaws around her thin arm. _

"_PANS!" Rose screamed, desperately trying to throw off her assailants. Dante rushed over to try and help his younger sister and was barreled into by a much larger, much scarier wyrwolf. Another wyrwolf launched into his back, sending him tumbling head first over his first wyrwolf attacker. Rose screamed again as a fourth wyrwolf latched onto her hand. She was screaming and crying and bleeding and fighting. Rose managed to yank her mutilated arm away from one wyrwolf and kicked the first off her leg. She tried to run to help Dante who was fighting and winning against three wyrwolves trying to get to her, but as soon as she moved the wyrwolves she'd beaten off attacked her again and with buddies. I was able to see just a flash of Dante's bloodied, torn body as he tried to rescue Rose. _

_A few more incoherent shrieks from both of them followed by, "Run! Run!" Unable to disengage for the moment, Dante went on fighting the wyrwolves. It was pretty obvious he wasn't going to listen to her. "PANSY! RUN!" Dante paused for a moment, lost in the desperation and terror in his sister's voice. A wyrwolf took advantage of the moment and crunched down on his leg, earning little more than a moan – there was no more scream left in Dante. Surprisingly, the other wyrwolves turned to focus on Rose, some of them seeming to try and stop the others. _

"_Pansy! I swear to the Creator, if you don't get your flowery butt back home I'll kill you myself!" That did it. (_Mental note to self_, I thought, _never call Dante's butt 'flowery'._) Dante winced and turned his back on Rose, fleeing the bloody scene, stumbling so slowly I flinched to think of how fast I knew wyrwolves were. I shuffled over to him, pulling his arm over my neck and supporting him. Dante didn't seem aware of my presence at all, though he stumbled along a little faster, calculating out my help. Together we staggered quickly through the forest – it seemed so much smaller than when the five of us were all hiking through the forest. _

_It wasn't long until we reached Cerentia again, though it might have been days for all I knew – I was exhausted. I let Dante stumble towards the metal detector gates while I chucked rocks at them and quietly begged the snakes to crawl into the little guard house. With all this bombarding, Dante got back into the city safely and I curled up beside my new snake friends and fell asleep just outside Cerentia._

The next time Kristen awoke, it was late afternoon, early evening, and she was back in her sleeping bag, though a little snake was curled around her wrist right beside her head. Groggily, Kristen sat up, the snake slithering up and curled behind her ear, its head poking out just below her temple. She looked to her left at Chrysis, peaceful now, though she twitched as people normally do when they're running in their dreams. To her right Dante had become absolutely boneless, sprawled out and taking up every possible inch of space between her and Mike, laying curled like a cat next to Keira who looked more like a dog than a cat. Kristen lay back down in her sleeping bag, the little snake squirming up over the bridge of her nose, content. She folded her arms back behind her head, pondering the nightmare she'd just awoken from.

Was it just that, just a nightmare? Kristen tossed that idea out upon thinking it. It was far too real to be 'just a nightmare'. Had she entered one of Dante's nightmares? He had said he still heard her screams sometimes. Maybe, but then, why could she touch him if it was one of his nightmares? And how did she get there to begin with? To her knowledge, she'd never before done anything of the sort, and it certainly had not felt like a nightmare, even someone else's. And that left traveling back to the past, something she'd never done before either. Despite the unlikelihood of that happening, she'd read the Door Into Summer, a story of a guy who went to the future and he went back to fix things but because he went back to fix things, he went to the future in the first place, thus creating a paradox. Had Kristen created a paradox, too? Because she 'dreamed' back to help Dante, he was here, which was why she went back in the first place, right? Unless she really did have 'just a nightmare' – a really vivid, scary, thought-provoking nightmare in which she knew exactly what was going on and things she could not have possibly known . . . _Ugh, never mind_, thought Kristen, sitting up, the snake tumbling down from its place on her nose. The scaly little thing slithered quickly away from Kristen, outraged, and crawled into her pack.

Kristen gave up figuring out her nightmare. That kind of deep, philosophical thinking was beyond her by a long shot. Sighing, Kristen began preparing breakfast for five. She was quite hungry, but everyone had agreed from the get-go to ration out their food so that they would not starve if they did not find a town or city within a month of leaving Cerentia. She scrambled eggs and fried bacon, burning herself several times in the process. Just as Kristen finished separating the food into five equal portions (much to her stomach's dismay), Mike awoke and stepped over to her. They ate in silence because neither felt up to talking and no one else was awake.

Finally when they had both finished eating (and Kristen's stomach growled for more), Mike spoke up. "Do you think Dante is going to talk today?"

Kristen shrugged. "Maybe." They both knew that wasn't the question Mike wanted to ask – that one was just to crack the ice.

"What will Keira do about Chrysis being gone all night?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of worry.

"I don't know," Kristen said. "She'll probably jump to conclusions, though." Mike nodded. A few moments later, Mike asked another question.

"Will we really have to kill things?" Mike asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kristen nodded, thinking back to her 'nightmare'. "If they try to kill us first," came her grim reply.

"I don't want to kill things . . . Sometimes I wish Chrysis and I hadn't been sired. Sometimes I feel that just a handful of vampyrs aren't enough to fix things. There's just too much to be done and we don't even know where to start."

"I agree, Mike, but we aren't going to fix anything all in one shot, or even by ourselves. It'll take time – who knows how long? And we'll have help, at least from this Cerevina person, if we find him or her."

Mike nodded. "That makes sense," he murmured. Not half a second later he was looking at her funny, as if she was crazy or something.

"What?" she asked. What was with people and looking at her like that? Was she really just that loony?

"You sounded like you were giving some important speech." Mike's face broke into a smile. "Like the mayor or something."

Kristen shook her head, smiling. "No way, not me. Maybe Dante, but definitely not me." As if he'd heard his name spoken, Dante shifted and rolled over onto his back. He groaned and sniffed the air.

"Who cooked that? Smells good," Dante said, pointing generally at the three plates left beside Kristen and Mike. Mike pointed at Kristen, who blinked at Dante. Dante sat up, stood on his knees, and walked (on his knees) over to the two other vampyrs. He plopped down beside them and picked up one of the full plates, staring at it, debating.

"I'm not really hungry," he stated.

"That's fine. May I have it then?" Kristen asked. Dante nodded and handed the plate to Kristen, who ate the food gratefully. Soon after Kristen finished eating Dante's plate, Keira woke and walked over.

"Has Chrysis woken up yet?" Keira asked with icy indifference.

Dante glared at her. "Obviously not." His words were heated and peeved.

"So you're speaking today?" Keira's voice was filled with feigned, sarcastic shock.

"Only because you and everyone else are going to fight if I don't," Dante snapped. "You'll holler at Chrysis and she'll cry, which will piss off Kristen and make Mike squeak at you to shut up and calm down and you'll just piss everybody off even more and I'll have to threaten to beat you all to shut up and leave each other alone anyway!" He was glaring at Keira, his pale azure eyes just daring her to speak up, to challenge him. "At least if I start off talking, I can stop the problem as soon as it starts." Keira huffed and turned away from him, taking the plate Mike was offering as a peace-keeper.

Not much longer after that, Chrysis joined them in the waking world. She ate her food in silence while everyone stared at her. As expected, Keira spoke first. "So, Chrysis, what were you doing last night?"

Chrysis looked at Keira; her eyes widened like a deer in headlights, and she gulped down the last of her breakfast. After a moment, she replied. "I was talking to plants, you know, asking them for news. They were –"

She was cut off by Keira's outraged cry. "Plants? You were talking to plants? That's not even possible, you freak! What were you really up to?" Just as Dante predicted, Chrysis's gray eyes welled up with hot, indignant tears.

"It is too possible . . ." she mumbled incoherently, but her small, hurt voice was not heard over everybody else's angry responses.

"It's not even possible to talk to animals," said Kristen pointedly, referring to her conversation with Jeremy and glaring at Keira.

"It's not even possible that we're vampyrs," Mike mumbled, comforting Chrysis.

"It's not even possible that vampyrs and wyrwolves _exist!_" spat Dante. Keira glared at the four of them.

"She really does talk to them, Keira," Mike said reasonably.

"Do they talk back?" Keira sneered.

Chrysis nodded, not hearing the insult. "Yes. Actually, they usually talk first."

"What did they tell you?" Kristen asked. Having a similar ability herself, she respected what the plants said.

"They told me it wasn't safe here, that we should move as quickly away from here as we can . . . Then they started chattering about 'such a pretty young girl', and one pansy said, 'That handsome boy, you remember him? Named after me, too!' I didn't understand most of their chatter, but plants don't lie." Dante nearly spit out the blood he'd been trying to swallow when Chrysis inadvertently mentioned him. Kristen failed to conceal a wide, knowing grin, although she tried very hard.

"I knew a guy named Pansy. Looked terrible, the poor guy." Dante flashed Kristen an irritated glance as if to say 'that wasn't nice of you'. However, Dante had immediately begun to pack up and Kristen followed suit. Chrysis absent-mindedly started a batch of simple but effective smoke bombs. Seeing this, Mike pulled out five pistols from the weapons pack and passed them around, one to each person. One quick look at him revealed his trembling hands and quivering body.

"_I don't want to kill things . . ."_

_Hopefully he won't have to do something he doesn't want to, _thought Kristen grimly, gripping her nine-millimeter pistol nervously.

Keira gave out an impatient growl and grabbed another pistol, a Colt-45, so that she was dual-wielding. Dante frantically handed everyone their respective packs and seemed very upset that no one was working as fast as he was.

"We need to go!" he said, his voice cracking, most likely from the extent of his strained emotions. Everyone stared at him in shock, except Chrysis, who just finished making her twelve bombs.

"Geez, Dante, what's got you so worked up?" asked Keira. She held herself aloof from the situation, although by looking at her ghost-white hands and the well-disguised fear in her eyes, Kristen could tell she felt the same as everyone else.

"Wyrwolves," he whispered, his eyes huge in fear of the horror only he and Kristen knew was to come. A single form loomed at them out of the deep, cloaking shadows. The man's ragged face grinned at them as he stepped slowly toward them.

"Good boy," the man said, his voice hoarse and his tone menacing. "Didn't 'spect you ta come back so soon, but I've been wrong afore." The wyrwolf's malicious grin widened to expose two rows of very sharp yellowed teeth, just waiting to sink into a vampyr's cold flesh. A gun fired and the small camp broke out into confusion, chaos, and most of all, pain.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	6. Fayore

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Fayore**

There were thirty wyrwolves total that had come to say hello to the vampyrs camping temporarily on their turf. Translation: six wyrwolves per vampyr.

Dante, having been through this before and losing his only family because of it, fought like a demon. He capped the one that had spoken to them in the face at point blank range, the first shot fired. He pistol-whipped another and broke its nose. A wyrwolf lunge forward and clamped onto his leg. Spewing curses, Dante blew apart its skull and clonked the first wyrwolf over the head, knocking him unconscious.

Chrysis stood still and stared blankly at the wyrwolves, rhythmically tapping her boot-clad foot as they lunged at her. She shot only in non-lethal places, carefully only to immobilize them. Because of her stance and that she slowly turned so as to keep all the wyrwolves in her line of vision, none of them got very close to her.

Mike was trembling so bad that, though he would have been an amazing shot, he kept missing by roughly three, four inches. If he hadn't been shaking so much, he'd have killed every one of those wyrwolves that daring mess with him with one shot, thanks to all the first person shooter games he'd played. Sometimes being an all-out geek was helpful.

Keira literally blew the wyrwolves away. She hardly had to glance at a wyrwolf before she shot it and moved onto the next poor sucker that decided to mess with her and her buddies – not that she thought of them like that but honestly, she was the only one allowed to mess with them! Keira really didn't seem attached to reality. She had a look similar to the one Chrysis usually wore, except Keira looked bored and slightly irate. A wyrwolf clamped onto her thigh from behind and she bent around, cat-like, to blast its brains into next Tuesday. Another wyrwolf lunged at her while her back was turn and she swung around and slammed the butt of her pistol into its jawbone and shot it as soon as the barrel could slide past the wyrwolf's snout.

Kristen, on the other hand, found that she could not wield a gun to save her life, which at the moment was indeed the case. At least, she couldn't aim. So instead, she took after Dante and beat back the wyrwolves with the butt of her pistol and fought her way over to the weapons. One of the accursed furry monstrosities leaped at her back but she ducked and he flew right over her head. Finally she made it to the weapons pack and rummaged through it, relying on her friends to occupy the wyrwolves while she searched for a suitable weapon. Her little snake-buddy slithered into the pack from the Creator-only-knows-where and wrapped itself around the handle of a machete and rested its head on a long, jagged dagger. It looked knowingly up at her and Kristen thanked it and grabbed the two lovely blades, shaking it off into the pack. Where on Azagarith Chrysis managed to get hold of _blades_ was beyond Kristen, but hey, how could she complain?

With her new weapons in hand, Kristen slammed her lovely machete into the nearest wyrwolf gut and sliced it wide open, kicking it down and bashing the wyrwolf behind her with the dagger. Another bit her arm and she jabbed at its face until the horrid thing released her and she had its eye on the end of her dagger. She yelled, more in shock than anything else, as some _thing _latched onto her calf. Kristen swung her arm down, about to shove her dagger straight through the thing's skull and into its brain's, and froze. It wasn't a _thing_ at all - it was a little boy, probably about her sister's age. He had very tangled dark red hair that reached just past his bony shoulders. The poor kid looked severely underfed. _Maybe that's why he's taking his sweet time gnawing through my leg,_ Kristen thought. Sighing, she grabbed the boy and hoisted him up so they were looking eye-to-eye, hoping that the other, bigger, _scarier_ wyrwolves were distracted.

His eyes were dark gray, so dark they were almost black. His tangled, matted hair sported all manner of twigs and leaves and mud, but through it all Kristen could tell that his hair was actually a very nice, dark red-orange color. He beamed at her, exposing sharp yellow teeth, a few of which were missing. "Do you," he started, searching for the right word. He reeked of blood and sweat. "Do you, uh, sir-in-der?" he asked, smiling brightly.

"Uh, no . . . " Kristen replied. "But, uh, I do want to, er . . . Negotiate with you." Kristen sure did hope she was talking the way the boy was talking. She supposed it was sort split-off of 'army talk' or something like that.

The boy scrunched up his face again. Apparently that was a necessary expression for him to think. "What does nuh-go-shee-ate mean?"

"To talk," Kristen supplied. She had already forgotten that she had found the little boy _gnawing _on her calf.

"Oh! Okay! What do you want to at- negotiate?" His cute little gaunt face smiled directly at her. She figured he must not smile much - he seemed to be over-smiling, if there was such a thing.

Kristen thought for a moment. "First, let me set you down. I don't want to accidentally stab you or anything." Carefully she lowered him down beside her until his little bare, grubby feet stretched to touch the grassy dirt. He grinned up at her, and swiped his hair out of his face. His jaw dropped.

"Yer real tall, y'know!"

Kristen laughed. That wasn't the first time she'd her that exact same thing. "I know. Listen, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Ask away!" he laughed. He was quite charmed with Kristen. She was the nicest person, aside from his parents, that he'd ever met.

"What's your name?"

"It's Fayore. What's yer name?" Kristen wondered briefly if the further the group moved from Cerentia the harder it would be to understand people.

"Well, Fayore, my name is Kristen. Who is in charge of your, erm, group? Family? Whatever you call it."

Fayore grinned at her. "We call it a Clan." Then his face fell, giving him a serious but not upset look. "That guy with the black hair killed Javtin, our leader. And then the girl with the braid injured Hesphyr, the second-in-command, but he's not dead."

"Alright. Can you tell him that we don't really want to fight?" she asked with hope.

"I could, but Hesphyr won't listen to me. Besides, that guy," Fayore gestured to Dante, blasting through his seventh wyrwolf, "certainly looks like he wants to fight."

Kristen nodded in agreement. But she, unlike little Fayore, knew why Dante was killing wyrwolves left right up down and center. "Right, then. I'll just have to this myself and hope I don't get us all killed," Kristen mumbled. She raised he hands, still clinging to her blades, and bellowed at the top of her lungs.

"_STOP!_" As commanded, everyone, vampyrs and wyrwolves alike, stopped and stared at her, probably wondering what the heck crazy thing she was doing now. Keira slammed the butt of her pistol into one wyrwolf's face, breaking his nose and knocking him down simultaneously. And then she stared innocently at Kristen.

"Well?" a wyrwolf on the ground demanded. He was a large man, well-built and sturdy, and he lay squeezing his leg just below the knee to keep his bullet wound from bleeding excessively. "Whaddya want, yuh suicidal vampyr?"

"Uh . . . " Kristen had no clue how to address such a terrifying a blood-thirsty crowd. Giving speeches at school had never prepared her for this, though the kids _were_ really crazy at times. "I'd like us to not be killed, for starters." _Oh crap. Me and my big mouth. Why'd I have to go and yell 'stop'?_

"_You've_ killed _us,_ so why can't _we_ kill _you? _'Cept for that girl," he looked pointedly at Chrysis, "yuh've all killed sev'ral of my Clan, including our leader. I don't see what's so wrong with killin' the rest a' y'all an' leavin' _her _alive."

"Good point," Kristen muttered. Time to change tactics. "Because, uh, we attacked in self defense. You know, kill or be killed."

Hesphyr nodded. "You and yer companions sure are eager to leave . . . " Kristen nodded once, though in her mind her head was bobbing up and down so fast it popped off. But that was just in her head. "We'll allow yuh ta leave only if yuh keep yer friends from attackin' us an' when yuh return, yuh don't pass through here. Got it?" Greatly relieved, (Kristen thought they'd have her and her friends be their slaves for a month of something like that) Kristen could only nod. Seeing they'd not be attacked if they moved, Kristen walked out of the bloodied clearing. Chrysis, Mike, and Keira followed immediately, not looking back. Dante, however, hesitated before reluctantly following.

Dante quickly caught up to Kristen and promptly exploded. "What did you do that for? We could have handled them!" he hissed angrily in her face.

"I know that," Kristen snapped back, "but that doesn't mean we should have! I know what they did to her, alright, but that doesn't mean you should have gone and killed them all like that!"

"They're _wyrwolves!_ They've been killing off our race for centuries, millennia!" Dante interrupted. Kristen stopped, her light green eyes blazing in rage, and she turned toward him, her face only inches from his. She gripped his shoulders tightly.

"Listen Pansy," Kristen growled just under her breath, "I know Rose was your sister and I know you loved her with every fiber of your being, but wyrwolves are people too! People just like you and me. People who care about their family just as passionately as the rest of us." Dante looked absolutely astonished. Obviously it had never occurred to him that wyrwolves had feelings as well, and to be honest, before she met Fayore, it hadn't occurred to her either.

After a moment, Dante regained his composure and hissed, "When did you get that idea? You didn't have it before those wyrwolves attacked. Why didn't you fight as hard as the rest of us?" Not waiting for her to answer, Dante continued. "Maybe because you were bargaining with them. Maybe you sold us out. Why else would they have let us leave without more of an argument?"

Kristen was speechless. How could he suspect her of treachery when she'd just save not only his life, but hers and Mike's and Keira's? What was Dante's problem with her anyway?

Before Kristen was able to reply, Keira, who had ventured back to retrieve the two of them, butted in. "Dante, Kristen doesn't have the _brains_ to do something like that. It'd have to be you, me, or Mike," Keira said curtly, ushering them along the pseudo-path to Mike and Chrysis. After that outburst, no one said anything about Kristen's intervention for several hours.

Everyone seemed to still be very serious and a bit jumpy by the end of the night and all of them shuddered when they remembered the growling and clawing and tearing the night before. Kristen was right. It was kill or be killed. They camped over seven miles northwest of their last camp, in a pleasant, shady area that would offer protection from the sun when dawn came. Everyone tried to act like everything was normal (minus all the fighting) and everyone failed miserably.

The five of them had just finished eating and were about to go to sleep when Chrysis spoke up. "The oak says someone is following us. He says the other oaks know they've been following us from our last camp." No one had mentioned how Chrysis' plants had been correct, not even Keira. They hadn't mentioned the wyrwolves or the fight that had taken place earlier that night. It had become an unofficial taboo subject until everyone had emotionally recuperated from the shock.

At this news, Dante shot a fierce glare at Kristen and asked Chrysis if it was a wyrwolf. Chrysis glanced up at the large oak's branches and the nodded at Dante.

"Alone?" Keira asked. Again Chrysis nodded.

"Scouting?" Mike questioned. His little sister paused, tapped her fingers twice on a root sticking up, and shook her head, puzzled.

"What's a lone wyrwolf doing following us if it isn't scouting?" Dante asked, more to himself than anyone. Kristen squirmed, knowing exactly who it was.

""No clue," came Chrysis' reply. Just then a small form leaped from the shadows and latched onto Kristen's back. Reflexively, Kristen violently shook her assailant off her. The little wyrwolf landed with a thwump in the dirt beside her. Fayore's dirty face beamed up at Kristen and he quickly sat up on his knobby knees, swiping his dark red hair out of his face.

"Heya Kristen! Guess what?" He did not wait for her reply. "I tracked you here! And you an' yer friends didn't even know 'til that tree told that girl!" Fayore talked quickly and waved his hands around quite a bit in the general direction of whatever he was talking about. He looked positively delirious with delight.

"Uh, hey Fayore. Um, why did you follow me?" Kristen asked, all too aware of the other vampyrs' presence, especially Dante's. She was sure going to get yelled at by everyone for this. Fayore's face fell.

"I don't think the older wyrwolves like me much. See the Elders, they beat me when I do something they don't like." Fayore stared shamefully at the ground, nervously picking at the grass. "It hurts," he whispered.

"I _told_ you wyrwolves were violent and malicious!" Dante snapped at Kristen.

Desperate not to be the cause of a fight, Fayore interjected, "It's 'cause I ask questions like 'Why do we attack the other Clans?' an' stuff like that."

"Violent and malicious," Dante repeated, louder this time.

"But that also means that the little boy isn't violent _or_ malicious," Chrysis argued. She turned to Kristen. "What did you call him again? I forgot."

"More like you weren't paying attention," Keira muttered.

Ignoring the bad-tempered blonde, Kristen said, "His name is Fayore." Chrysis smiled sleepily.

"That's – " Chrysis began to say, but Dante cut her off.

"When did you find that out?" the older vampyr demanded. Before she could reply, however, she was interrupted (yet again) by Fayore.

"While you were killin' my Clan mates," the little wyrwolf replied happily. "Kristen and I were, uh, what was that word again?"

"Negotiating."

"Oh yeah! I remember now," Fayore continued amiably. "We were negotiatin'. She asked me my name an' I asked her fer hers an' then she asked me who was in charge but you killed the Lord, so since Hesphyr was the new Lord, I told her he was in charge." Fayore beamed at Dante, not registering his looked of utter, barely-controlled rage.

"So you wyrwolves are separated into Clans led by Lords?" Mike asked, getting out his laptop to record the information. If they had to infiltrate the wyrwolves stronghold, they would have to use the same terms the wyrwolves did.

"Only in this forest. We're really just part a' the wyrwolf princedom, led by Prince Zorinthos currently. He's been the Prince since before I was born. Anyway, outside the forest, humans are separated inta villages. I don't know them all, but I know the nearest one is called Darango. The only way ta get ta the capital, where Prince Zorinthos lives, is ta go through a bunch of villages called The Path," Fayore babbled. He really liked having people listen to him for a change, instead of just hitting him every time he opened his mouth. Plus, he was using his store of knowledge to help someone and he loved helping people.

"Why would you have to go to the capital?" Keira asked. Like Mike, she felt that they needed to know as much as possible.

"Elesin is a holy place for wyrwolves. We – "

Fayore was cut off by Dante. "Elesin?"

"Yep! Elesin is the name of the capital," Fayore confirmed brightly, pleased with himself. The others, however, from Cerentia, exchanged uneasy glances. "Anyway, each wyrwolf has ta go ta Elesin ta get Initiated an' pledged ta the Prince." Fayore wrinkled up his face. "Problem with that is no one would tell me anything else about Initiation, but I do know that every wyrwolf comes back real loyal to Prince Zorinthos and they get violent, too. At least the boys do." Ah. So that was the reason wyrwolves tended to be 'violent and malicious' as Dante had so eloquently put it.

"So you haven't gone yet?" Kristen asked hopefully. Maybe the little wyrwolf could help them out.

Fayore shook his head. "I was supposed ta go a year ago, when I was six, but I was told I had ta improve my fightin' skills afore I could an' we were gonna discuss it tonight, but you guys were there, so the Elder I was next to said if I could take down one of ya, I could go, no questions asked. So I picked the only one of you without a gun." Fayore grinned at Kristen.

"What happened to the gun I gave you?" Mike demanded, glaring at Kristen.

Kristen shrugged. "I couldn't use it all that well, so I grabbed a couple of knives instead."

"Oh!" exclaimed Kristen's little wyrwolf friend. "That reminds me!" Fayore swung off his purple backpack and began rummaging through it. "I have sev'ral swords, if you want to borrow one or two." He pulled out a few more swords than 'several' and it wasn't just swords, either. Fayore had axes, swords, arrows, three bows, bolts, three crossbows, and even some super-poisonous poison coated throwing knives, all out of one back pack.

"Ummmmmm . . . " Kristen said, pointing at Fayore's backpack and the multitude of weapons that had just been pulled out of it.

"Oh. My mother, Lily, gave it ta me a long time ago. She said her mother's friend, Rose, left it behind back at the meeting place."

"Rose?" Dante whispered. Louder, he demanded, "Did you say your grandmother's friend was named Rose?"

Fayore nodded. "Yep. Rose an' Ricky, my grandmom were real good friends, but Rose left afore Mom was born. She left this pack at the place y'all were camping with a note sayin' she was leavin' 'to attend to family matters' an' that the pack was Ricky's and only Ricky's. It's been passed down to the eldest child ever since."

This update on his sister's welfare left Dante positively puzzled. What family matters had Rose left to attend to? He was her only 'living' relative, even before he was sired. Had she meant _vampyr _matters? Had Ricky even known what Rose was? Probably. Rose despised lying and liars. The family matters disguise was clever and fashioned so that Rose wasn't lying at all. Plus, Ricky would have known the truth and no one else would have. But exactly what matters had Rose left to attend to?

"Does that pack hold anything or does it only hold the stuff that was already in it?" Chrysis asked. If they could put all the weapons in Fayore's backpack and if it could also ward off the metal detectors she suspected were at the gates of each village, then they would not have to continue dressing up Kristen all the time.

"It can hold anything, but unless you know what yer lookin' fer, ya can't find it again," Fayore answered. Immediately Dante snatched the pack away from Fayore and began frantically digging through it.

"No . . . no . . . not it . . . no . . . where is it?" Dante mumbled. "No, that's not it either. Ugh, did she even put it in here?" After a bit more reckless searching and a few more minutes, Dante removed a small blue rose pendant on a gold chain. He sighed with relief and squeezed the rose so tightly an imprint of the design was left on his pale palm. He then slipped the necklace on over his head and tucked it under his black shirt with his vampyr necklace.

"What is that," Keira asked, gesturing toward the rose necklace, "and why is it so important?" She sounded rude and impatient, due to her infuriating lack of knowledge.

"It used to belong to Rose," Dante answered, having forgotten that only Kristen knew about Rose. When everyone except Kristen stared at him blankly, he elaborated.

"Rose was my younger sister. I have a similar necklace. We wore them constantly. And our mother gave them to us right after Rose was born." Dante revealed another necklace, a red pansy, and glared at Kristen to keep her mouth shut.

Kristen, on the other hand, was trying to hide her laughter unsuccessfully. Fayore fidgeted beside her, itching to say something.

"Then we're family!" Fayore burst out, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Dante gave his such a ferocious glare the poor boy nearly wet his pants. "Or just about, anyway. Mom said Grandmom Ricky an' Rose were so close they were almost sisters an' that Grandmom Ricky went knock-turn-all so they could be together," the little wyrwolf mumbled sheepishly. Dante refused to respond to this correction on Fayore's part, leaving the boy uncomfortable and the camp silent.

"I think we should all go to sleep now. The sun's about to rise and this forest can't go on much longer," Keira suggested. Kristen got the vague impression that Keira was trying to keep Dante from completely destroying Fayore emotionally.

"We should let him hold the compass before we do, just to be safe," Mike said, digging through Keira's backpack for the moral compass Father Nolatari gave to Chrysis. He passed it to Fayore. The little wyrwolf looked at it strangely, flipped it over, stared at it some more, turned it upright, and looked at Mike questioningly.

"Just hold it tight and wait," instructed Keira. Fayore did as he was told. The moral compass spun slowly three times, just as confused as Fayore was himself. Finally, the needle landed just shy of North, on the West side. Fayore blinked a few times and held the compass closer to his face. He stared in the direction the needle was pointing and shook his small head, handing the compass back to Mike.

"It's broken," he protested. He pointed where the compass needle had pointed and exclaimed, "That's not north! Why'd you give me a broken compass?" Fayore was ignored while the others argued over the compass' results.

"We shouldn't trust him," Dante said firmly.

"He's just a little kid," Mike argued.

"Rose was friends with his grandmother," Kristen pointed out.

"That doesn't mean that he's just like her," Dante snapped.

"May I remind you, Dante, that when _you_ held the compass, it almost didn't land on North either," Chrysis muttered, "and _you've_ been a vampyr longer than the rest of us."

"It still didn't land on North!" Dante was not going to back down on this decision.

Kristen caught on to where Chrysis was leading the argument and picked up where the younger girl left off. "He was raised in that kind of environment, Dante. It's amazing he was so close to North as it is."

"By all technicality, Fayore should have landed on South with no confusion or second-guessing, considering how he was raised," Mike stated, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"And he hasn't been Initiated yet," Keira threw in.

"He is staying," Chrysis finished with a cold stare that established the authority in her voice. No one, not even Keira, argued with Chrysis when she got like that, _especially_ not Dante.

Fayore smiled shyly at Dante but he was met by a harsh, angry glare and lost his smile. "That wasn't a normal compass, was it?" he asked.

"No," answered Keira. "It's a moral compass. It shows your view on the question programmed into the compass, and there's no way to lie."

"What was the question?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but basically, north is for people who want to help us, south is for people who want to harm us. East is for people who don't care, and west is for people who will go either way," Chrysis replied.

"Now can we go to sleep?" Mike asked, yawning. He gave everyone a sleepy look and shut down his laptop, put it away, and curled up in his sleeping bag at the foot of an oak. Suddenly realizing how exhausted they all were, everyone picked a place to sleep and promptly passed out. Fayore curled into Kristen's lower back and dropped off to sleep before his head even hit the ground. The little seven-year-old was no bigger than a large dog. Kristen felt sorry for the young boy and was soothed to sleep by his even breathing.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	7. News

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**News**

Kristen moaned and rolled over to escape the painful blows dealt to her back, which did not cease in the slightest. She sleepily battled away her assailant, mumbling something about it being too early. Suddenly the attacker began impatiently jumping up and down on her, like she was some kind of trampoline. Growling, Kristen threw off the 'jumper' and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Kristen yawned loudly before finally opening her green eyes to see who it was that had so rudely awakened her. It was Fayore.

Fayore looked stressed and starved, his dark grey eyes staring hungrily at hers. He looked so pitiful Kristen completely forgot her anger at being awoken.

"What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely concerned. Was he hungry? Hurt? Scared?

"I'm so bored!" he wailed. "I've been up since noon, 'cause I don't sleep much an' all, an' you guys were all sleepin' and I had no one to talk to, an' – " Because Fayore had said that very quickly and in one breath, her paused to breathe. He deflated suddenly and looked at Kristen sheepishly.

"What did you do all day?" Kristen asked. It felt strange to say the word 'day' now, because she had spent so long confined to the nights.

"Well, first I kept watch for a few hours, then I got bored so I practice with my store of weapons for a long time," Fayore said waving casually toward the vast assortment of weaponry spread throughout the camp. "And then I got hungry, so I waited a few minutes for the sun to go down completely before waking up you." The little wyrwolf wrinkled up his nose, as if confronted by something with an atrocious odor. "But you wouldn't wake up, so I jumped on you." Fayore gave Kristen an apologetic look.

Kristen nodded, understanding now. "Right, hand me the red pack, please, and the blue one, too, would you?" Fayore obeyed happily. He was more than glad to finally have something to do and someone to talk to. Kristen rekindled last night's fire and set to work cooking breakfast. "Fayore, could you clean up those weapons?" The young boy nodded and ran about picking up various weapons and shoving them into his bottomless purple pack.

The fragrance of sizzling bacon filled the air as Kristen exercised her excellent cooking skills. As Kristen loaded the bacon onto six plates, divided equally, of course, Fayore padded over to her. He sat down, leaning into her shoulder and letting the purple pack slip to the ground.

"Kristen," Fayore asked, "why does Dante hate me so much?" Kristen sighed, scrambling the eggs a bit more.

"He doesn't hate you," Kristen said heavily, allowing her shoulders to droop, forcing Fayore to reposition himself.

"Yes he does. Didn't you hear him last night?" Fayore muttered, still upset over the previous night's argument.

"Not you specifically," corrected Kristen. "Wyrwolves in general. He thought they killed his little sister, his only family, and wyrwolves have been killing vampyrs for centuries. Mind you, we aren't much better on that front, but then, just last year, the wyrwolves began massacring vampyrs. Dante's been hurt by wyrwolves twice, but both in agonizing ways. He's frustrated with himself because he had no idea that his sister was alive. And since you're the messenger and a wyrwolf, he's taking it out on you."

"Oh . . . So it's not me he hates?" Fayore asked, his gray eyes bright with hope.

"No, Fayore, not upset with you," was Kristen's reply. Fayore happily snuggled into her arm at that and breathed in the smell of the cooking eggs.

I guess I'll just really try to get him to like me," Fayore mumbled. A few minutes later, Fayore and Kristen eagerly ate their equal share of breakfast. Not long after they had both finished, Keira woke up. For a split second, Kristen could have sworn she saw the snappish vampyr look at Fayore with a kind of bitter, rueful longing, but it was gone too soon to be sure. Exactly like the look of fear in her mother's eyes when she noticed Kristen's necklace.

Fayore smiled pleasantly at Keira as the vampyr began eating the plateful of food Kristen handed her. "Good evening!" he said politely. Keira, whose mouth was full, merely looked up at him and nodded before swallowing roughly.

"And to you," she replied before returning to her food. It was always easy to tell when Keira was in a good mood when she woke up or not because she would be polite for an hour or so after. Mike had confided in Kristen one night that he reckoned that Keira had 'high upbringing' to which Kristen scoffed.

"How are you doing?" Fayore asked nicely. So far everyone except Dante had been nice to him, especially Kristen who ought to have been angry at him several times now.

Keira looked up again. "Well enough," she replied gruffly, "but do quit addressing me until I'm finished eating."

Fayore wrinkled up his face like he always did when he was confused and looked at Kristen. "Huh?"

"She means quit talking to her," Kristen said in a tone not unlike one a mother would use to shush her child, and hush Fayore did. At least until Mike got up and stumbled over to the three of them.

"I see Fayore is still there, which means either he stayed all day or as Dante would think," his voice changed smoothly to imitate Dante's, "he plans to spy on us some more, the little monster." Despite their best efforts, both Kristen and Keira smiled. However, Fayore laughed outright and Mike beamed as he joined the others on the ground.

Dante woke up next and immediately started asking questions, "How long has he been awake?" Dante demanded.

"Since noon," Kristen answered stiffly.

"Noon? Noon? He could have told those wyrwolves everything, eaten a fine meal, taken a nap, and come back without our knowing!" Dante roared, arms flailing about. He looked almost akin to a mad, raving dog, foaming at the mouth. Minus the foaming part, but doubtless he felt that enraged.

"Relax," Keira said sternly, "you're starting to sound like how I am with Chrysis." This might have been meant as a jest of sorts, but Dante certainly did not take it as such.

"At least my suspicions are well founded." Dante snapped, turning on the blonde. "Unlike yours!"

Keira gave him a fierce, knowing, and overall teasing smirk. "Perhaps she reminds me too of a certain family member of mine." Her blue eyes were cold and harsh, the words meant to be cruel.

Dante visibly flinched and fell silent for a moment; Keira carefully hid a triumphant grin that only Mike and Kristen caught. The two vampyrs exchanged uneasy glances before preparing to step in as peace keepers. However, the ever- diligent young wyrwolf was already trying to calm everyone.

"It's okay Dante! I kept watch for hours and I practiced fighting with – " Fayore said trying desperately to be the happy medium, but Dante furiously cut him off.

"How can we trust a little, sneaking creature like you?" He growled. No one was able to reply to that, being as a very, very angry young woman had just woken up. Not even Mike had ever seen Chrysis this furious, through the two years he had known her. It was thoroughly terrifying to see the one person everyone had least expected to get angry so entirely pissed off.

"Get off his case, Pans," Chrysis hissed. There was no need to shout. She had everyone hanging from strings like puppets. The utter shock of her sudden blast of wrath held them captive to her every whim.

Dante half-turned to stare at Chrysis through the corner of his blue eyes, "No . . . " The sound barely managed to escape his throat, his voice no louder than a light breeze.

The earth rumbled and groaned as the roots of every plant shifted and moved, just as deeply affected by Chrysis' mood as the vampyrs, and Fayore, were. Branches swayed in random directions with not a single breeze to be felt.

"If Rose had a rose necklace, then Pansy would have a pansy necklace. Is this not true?" Chrysis said casually, by way of explanation.

Dante glared sharply at Kristen before replying, "Mother always had an infuriating fondness for flowers," Dante muttered, jaws clenched.

"Pansy?" Keira snorted, physically unable to hide a grin. Dante's glare was answer enough. Keira busted out laughing, almost falling back into Mike as she did so. Mike pushed the hysterical blonde over and scooted just barely out of her range. After a moment or so, Keira sat up and looked at Dante's very annoyed face.

"Wait, you were serious?" she asked, swiping a bit of bleach blonde hair out of her eyes. Dante nodded, eyes narrowing, Keira grinned. "That makes it all the better, then."

Chrysis, having accomplished her goal, sat down beside Fayore and Mike and took the plate Kristen offered her. Kristen also demanded that Dante sit his butt down and eat, much to Keira's amusement.

Dante glared at Kristen. "Did you tell?" he hissed angrily under his breath at her.

"I've kept my mouth shut," she hissed back.

"What are you two whispering about?" Mike asked, looking questioningly at Dante and Kristen. Fayore, who had heard their conversation, kept silent, his gaze falling expectantly on Kristen and Dante.

"Kristen wants to give Dante flowers and wanted to know what kind and he told her his name instead," giggled Keira before outright laughing again. Her antics were rewarded with two glares and a few smiles. Fayore managed to hide his soft smile with his messy dark red hair.

"Shut up, Keira," Dante snapped, taking a bite of bacon irritably. Keira obeyed in so far as to not talk. However, even Fayore's threats to bite off her nose did little to keep her from laughing at random.

This continued for days, lifting everyone's spirits – at least when Dante ignored her, which he frequently did. However, Dante had also taken to either ignoring Fayore, or watching him close to something vaguely akin to stalking. Not a week later, Jeremy returned, much to Dante's dismay.

"Aiee!" Jeremy squawked, leaping away from Fayore as the little wyrwolf pulled playfully on the cardinal's blood red feathers. The little boy scooped up the bird, blissfully oblivious to the stream of obscenities gushing from the humiliated bird's beak. Fayore nuzzled Jeremy, pressing the warm little body to his face.

Jeremy, humiliated and peeved, struggled with all his might, screeching at the top of his lungs. "Let go, you foul – ", and such things as that, only worse and far more insulting at least to birds anyway, Kristen herself could not help but crack up at Jeremy's colorful language.

"Oh, let him go," Kristen breathed when she could convince her body to quit laughing for a moment. "He might not tell us anything if you don't!" This threat, translated by Kristen, shot Mike into action. Disdainfully, he grabbed the cardinal's leg and gently pulled the bird out of Fayore's loose, playful grip. His lips were set in a thin line as he gazed at Jeremy, helplessly flapping his scarlet wings. Mike pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and wordlessly handed Jeremy to Kristen.

"Quit manhandling me!" The little cardinal shrieked, hoping angrily out of Kristen's lap.

"What did He say?" asked Kristen, interrupting Jeremy's self-pity. The cardinal glared at her, but seeing as she had not done anything to him, he graced her with a response.

"First tell them others to quit molesting me," Jeremy said defiantly, ruffling his feathers irritably.

Kristen rolled her green eyes and said in an exasperated tone, "Fayore wasn't molesting you." Kristen was rewarded with a stubborn stare. She sighed and looked up at the others.

"He won't talk until everyone promises not to molest him," said the vampyr apologetically. To this Fayore protested, but between Chrysis and Keira (and one hell of a glare from Dante) they managed to calm down their out raged wyrwolf companion.

"I wouldn't want to molest him anyway," said Dante gruffly, crossing his bare arms over his chest. Jeremy huffed indignantly and hopped over to Kristen to talk.

"What did He say?" she asked the little red bird again. Jeremy looked at her, suddenly realizing the power he possessed. This small group hungered and starved for the wisdom of their elders, especially the father of their covenant. If he refused to relay Father Nolatari's message, then they could do little about it. But even as he realized this, Jeremy knew he would never withhold information from them, no matter how irritating they became. Loyalty to his old friend could not account entirely for the burning desire to tell them everything, to pour it all out. However, loyalty to his old friend kept the knowledge he gave as a discreet as Father Nolatari wished.

"Says to keep heading northwest. Get to Elesin, find the Cerevina. That, for now He said, is at most importance. Said things are almost to get dangerous and you need to keep your minds shut tight and to be sure to blend in as much as possible. He wants you to be safe and do everything you can to survive." Jeremy was on the verge of disclosing too much information, but he reasoned mischievously, there could be no harm in telling what Father Nolatari planned to do when the group returned.

"He also says he wants a chance to speak to Dante," Jeremy spat the name, disgusted to even have to say it. Whatever Father Nolatari had to say to the vampyr, it did not mean Jeremy had to like him. "Alone," he added. Good, no trace of the other news Jeremy recalled sadly, the last of what the old man had told him.

_"Jeremy, friend, there is something else I wish to tell you." Father Nolatari's saddened voice echoed in his head like his own thoughts. He had been about to take flight to find Kristen and the others when Father Nolatari spoke again. At the depressed but ever determined voice of his friend, Jeremy had turned to face him. Father Nolatari's gold eyes were wet with unshed tears. To his knowledge no one of the Cardinal Covenant had died after he left to talk to Kristen and her friends. What could have moved his dear old friend so close to tears, he remembered thinking. Now he knew, and fervently wished it wasn't so, that it had just been some horrible kind of cruel joke. But deep down he knew it was true, that Father Nolatari had not been lying to him. "I will not live much longer. My successor has come at last and soon I will die as the others before me have done. But not yet, thankfully not yet, though it will be soon, so soon. I can feel it in the very marrow of my ancient bones." Seeing his crumpled face, Father Nolatari continued, "I do not wish to upset or rush the children. Do not tell them what I have just told you. I tell you, Jeremy, because you are a good friend of mine and deserve to know."_

_A few minutes after that, after what seemed like two seconds and eternity at the same time, he responded. "Have you told the Covenant?" Though not a vampyr or an official member of the Cardinal Covenant, he was fiercely loyal to it and in turn its vampyr members. _

_"No," Father Nolatari had said quietly. "The news would cause distress among my Covenant, distress we do not need." He had nodded, his scarlet head bobbing sadly as the man his friend, stroked him, both silent and deep in though. Instinctively, he hopped closer to Father Nolatari, savoring those moments that just might be their last together after so long. Finally, grudgingly, he pulled away from the old man and looked up at the old man, his eyes wet with tears he dared not shed. Father Nolatari smiled at him with no joy. _

_"Go now," Father Nolatari commanded. "We will see each other again."_

_"On the other side maybe," he responded. Birds accept death; it was a part of life, the last part. But it hurt, too. Birds grieved just as much as any other animal, but unlike humans, animals felt no desire to end their lives because of death. There was a balance, there still is. Death dances about, choosing who it pleases to join his kingdom, with little though to the mortal realm. Depressing as it was, he accepted Father Nolatari's fate._

_Slowly, he pulled away from the old man who had been his friend for so long and hopped over to the window. Sadly he glanced back before shoving himself up on a low air current. He cruised away from the church, the silvery moonlight giving his feathers an eerie glow._

No, Jeremy decided, _I won't tell them that. _He shifted in Kristen's lap, keeping his legs from going numb.

"Thank you Jeremy," Kristen said politely, offering him a bit of bacon from Chrysis's plate, but he refused and promptly flew up into a nearby tree.

"What did he say?" Mike asked, remembering the time he almost ate their little messenger.

"He said to keep heading northwest. We need to get to Elesin and find the Cerevina first, because apparently that's the most important thing." To Kristen's surprise, it was Fayore who started muttering the name Cerevina under his breath as she and the others had been doing ever since they heard the name. "Anyway, he said things are about to get dangerous-" Kristen was cut off by an out raged shriek from Keira.

"Going to? It's already often dangerous! Fayore is proof of that! We could have all died! I rather think that's dangerous, don't you?"

"That's just what he said, Keira. I'm only translating," Kristen replied tiredly, calming the hot tempered vampyr down slightly. "He said that we need to keep our minds shut and to blend in as much as we can. We need to do everything we can to survive," Kristen had the eerie feeling that the last part was meant mostly for her, but she said nothing about it.

"Anything else?" Dante demanded.

"Yeah, he wants to talk to you when we get back. Alone, according to Jeremy."

"I wonder what that's all about," he muttered tossing a handful of dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

"So he wants us to be paranoid?" questioned Mike.

"Super paranoid," Chrysis nodded as the two siblings stood. They pittered and pattered around the camp, returning it to its former untouched glory. The only trace left of their presence was the fact that they were still there.

"Why didn't you do that before?" Keira asked, an annoyed tone seeping into her voice. As she spoke, she waved her hand in a casual way towards the flawless campground.

Chrysis shrugged, "We didn't feel we needed to." Keira huffed angrily and pulled on her pack as she stood.

"Come on, guys!" Fayore said happily pulling on his bottomless purple pack, "let's go!" He beamed up at Dante who glared at him. Silently, they shuffled out of the camp, single file. Dante was leading them, holding up the directional compass. Kristen came next followed by Mike then Keira. Last came Chrysis and Fayore, covering up their tracks as they went along.

Later that night close to dawn to be precise, they reached the edge of the forest. Because it was so close to dawn, Fayore was sent to scout, as he said. The vampyrs stayed in the shade of the trees and set up camp.

What Fayore saw was shocking. There were no trees. The tallest thing to be seen was a fort like building with only one entrance that Fayore could see, because it was facing the forest. The gate was still shut tight because there was no one outside it. The landscape was barren of life, more like a dirt floor than anything else. The fort was a sandy color that blending in with the land so much that it was hard for even Fayore's young wyrwolf eyes to make out.

He forced his vision to hone in on the fort so difficult to locate. The little figures that stood as lookouts for the night were replaced by the lookouts for the day. Those people had bows and arrows like the ones in his purple pack, only better. The archers could not see Fayore from his hiding spot in one of the many trees, but he could see them well enough to determine that none of the day watch was proficient with a bow as the night watch was.

Quietly, Fayore crept back to the camp to inform the others what he'd learned.

"Guys! Guys!" He whispered loudly, slipping under a fallen tree.

"What? What?" Keira asked, yawning. Mike passed him a small featherless bird Kristen had managed to capture and kill. It was not cooked, because being so close to the Path, a fire would attract unwanted attention, but Fayore didn't mind. He was eating regular meals and no one, excluding Dante, yelled at him anymore. Besides, he was used to uncooked food. Happily, Fayore bit into the cool flesh.

"It's a fort," Fayore said with his mouth full.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Kristen chastised from her perch on a cold rock. "It's impolite." Fayore nodded, ducking his head as he roughly swallowed. "It's a fort," he repeated, "But it's really hard to see from the tree line, 'cause it's the same color as the ground. I got there as the guard switched. The night guard is better armed than the day guard an' the night guard is more alert, too. They're probably paranoid 'bout a vampyr invasion or something." His dark eyes twinkled mischievously and for a brief moment everyone, excluding Dante, smiled. Vampyr invasion. Ha!

"By the way," Fayore asked, taking another bite out of his bird and swallowing, "where'd you get so many guns? I mean," another bite, "my clan had some guns but only the high end wyrwolves got them, 'cause there weren't enough to go around," He stopped to finish his dinner and after a moment he continued. "So what did you guys do kill one 'a Prince Zorinthos' scoutin' parties or something?" Fayore grinned, wiping his hands on the grass beside his crossed legs.

The vampyrs just looked at him funny. "No," Dante said slowly, "Chrysis had them." They all looked expectantly at Chrysis. Keira was the only one who glared.

"Mike, you remember Mother's attic, how we used to always find the coolest stuff up there? I found them in a box at the very, very back, under whole bunch of costumes and stuff." What she neglected to mention was that it was either for Mother Syeti of it belonged to her.

Mike nodded understanding."But why would Mother have a bunch of guns and ammo?"

"I don't think she knew she had it. Remember Mother said the house belonged to her great grandparents? Maybe that stuff was left from them or their children."

Mike looked thoughtful at that and nodded. "You're probably right."

"Say, guys, I think we should go inta that fort tuh-marrah night," Fayore said, smiling. "The longer we're here, the more likely it is we'll be found, innit?"

Keira nodded, "Yes. There is a more of a chance we will be found every second longer we stay here, especially during the day."

"Then again," Dante threw out, "how are we going to get in? Won't they be suspicious of a large group of people from the forest trying to get in to their town right at dusk? They've probably been warned about vampyrs."

"None of the humans in the towns know about vampyrs or wyrwolves." Fayore piped up, looking too-obviously at Dante for praise.

"How'd you find that out?" Dante growled. "Did your wyrwolf buddies tell you to tell us that so we'd get caught?" Fayore flinched and looked down at his twiddling thumbs.

"I overheard the chief elder guy talking to this wyrwolf about to go get Initiated. He told him to expect each town along The Path to check for a vampyr necklace, and that they wouldn't know what they were," Fayore mumbled. Dante glared at him.

"That brings us back to what Dante said," Mike muttered, then louder, "How do we get in without them checking us?'

The six of them pondered this, even Fayore whose facial expressions of thought proved distracting to Keira. (Meaning she couldn't think because she was trying not to giggle.) There were a few false starts.

"I got it! I got is!" Fayore squealed happily, jumping up.

"Shhh!" the vampyrs said, motioning for Fayore to shut up and sit down. The little wyrwolf plopped down beside Dante. "So what was it?" the oldest vampyr growled.

Fayore's mouth opened then closed and Fayore hung his head. "I forgot," he whispered sadly. Dante hissed in frustration.

And then there was the time Chrysis got an idea.

"I have an idea," Chrysis said dreamily, about half an hour after the Fayore incident.

"What is it?" Mike asked, looking up at his little sister. (He'd been playing with the grass.)

"It won't work," she said miserably.

"Then why'd you mention it?" Keira snapped more frustrated with herself then anything.

"Because it would have been a good idea," Chrysis replied stubbornly, "if the physics of it would have worked."

"Hypothetically, what would we have done?" asked Dante, tired of finding new possibilities and having to throw them away for some reason or another.

"We'd have taken off our necklaces and gone up there and pretended to be the average traveler, but we can't take off our necklaces, can we?"

Dante shook his head and Chrysis nodded, already thinking up a new way to get into the fort, as Fayore called it.

"Well, I for one think that idea was useless," Keira snorted, half to herself.

But, ah, anyway, Kristen eventually came up with an idea that _seemed_ workable – even if it was down right silly.

"I have an idea!" Kristen said. Met with looks of doubt, dismissal, and (from Fayore) hope. Kristen felt doubt trickle all down her back, like ice cold sweat. "No really guys. It may sound retarded, but it'll work. Trust me on this one guys. If it doesn't work then you won't ever have to listen to me again, I promise." This statement certainly interested Dante and Keira, though Chrysis and Fayore were with her from the start and Mike had just plain given up.

Leaning in now, "So here's what we do . . . "

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	8. Welcome to Darango

**_A.N._****_ -_**_ This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Welcome To Darango**

"I don't think this is gonna work," Chrysis said worriedly, fiddling with her necklace as she watched Fayore and Keira hanging upside-down from a tree. (Who could stay upside-down the longest – a game they made up just to pass the time. Dante _supposed_ to be timing them.)

"Of course it will!" Fayore exclaimed indignantly, crossing his arms. Hopeful, trusting little kid. His long shirt hung up over his head, his chin keeping the blue material from obscuring his little face.

Keira swung gleefully from side to side on her branch. "Think of it this way – if it doesn't, we don't have to listen to Kristen anymore! If it does then Dante owes her an apology," Keira cackled and Dante grimaced. "Either way, it's a win-win situation!" Keira laughed all the harder and Dante stood up, glaring daggers at the blonde. He took one large step and shoved Keira off her perch in the tree, triumphant in his effort.

Fayore clapped his hands, grinning and saying, "I won! I won!" Fayore dropped down from the tree and padded up behind Keira and latched onto her waist, burying his small, gaunt face into her back. "But you wouldn't 've fallen if Dante hadn't helped," Fayore murmured. Shocked by the sudden display of warmth, Keira stiffened up and stared down at Fayore. After a moment, Fayore dislodged his face from Keira's back and grinned at Dante. "Thanks! Now Keira owes me a cookie an' a piggyback ride!"

Dante snorted and stalked off to Mike, who was futzing with his laptop and growing frustrated with it. Fayore's face shattered and he buried it again in Keira's back.

"I'm not getting a signal," Mike complained, furiously hammering away at the keys.

"What do you mean?" Dante asked, crouching beside the shorter vampyr. Of course Dante had seen laptops, but he'd never worked with them before. Besides, he _really_ needed something to distract him.

"My laptop can't connect to the Network because it's not getting a message," Mike muttered, still slamming his fingers on the plastic keys.

"So, uh, what's the network?"

Mike did not reply immediately. "The Network, capital N, is the underlying base that all computers run on. Laptops are especially affected by the Network, because unlike stationary computers, laptops have no home base and must rely solely on the Network." Mike gritted his teeth and leaned closer to the screen.

"So the Network is really important, huh?" Dante said, squeezing his eyes shut. Good Creator, how many little numbers could fit on one screen? Dante felt motion sick, even though he wasn't moving at all.

"Vital," Mike whispered, and then after a pause, "WHAT? THE NETWORK WON'T _ACCEPT_ ME?" Very, very quickly Dante retreated. Mike was, apparently a very scary and rare sight when angered and Dante preferred to _not_ invoke such wrath onto himself. _Note to self_, Dante thought. _Never make Mike angry at me_. "I NEED A _PASSWORD_?" Dante scurried away faster.

"Hey Keira?" Fayore asked. "Why do we have ta leave yer clothes n' stuff here? Why can't we take it with us?"

"Because we're supposed to have most of it stolen from us. Don't worry Fayore, we'll keep your bag, Chrysis' chemistry set, and Mike's laptop." Keira paused and looked down at her attachment, thinking. "Actually, we should probably put most of the stuff from the other packs into yours. There's no weight limit on it, right?"

"Right! Let's go!"

Meanwhile, Kristen was shoving a small, bright red bird into a tiny golden cage. "Nonsense, Jeremy. Of course it will work! Not a single one of my retarded plans has failed me yet."

"There's a first time for everything," fretted the bird, struggling frantically against Kristen's hand.

"Look, just get in the cage," said Kristen, keeping a tight grip on the cardinal.

"I can't fit!" Jeremy complained, whining up at Kristen. Sighing, the tall vampyr stuffed the shrieking bird into the cage and, with some effort, shut the tiny barred door. Looking at the squashed little red bird, Kristen felt terrible. But it had to be done, so she steeled herself against her sympathy for Jeremy and focused on the job at hand.

Through all this, no one heard what Chrysis muttered after Keira lost her bet with Fayore. "Perhaps Dante should apologize to Kristen anyway . . ."

Kristen strode over to where her companions were grouped. Chrysis was braiding her hair (poorly, as usual) and Dante was behind her, glowering about something or another. Keira was waddling around, little Fayore still clinging to her waist like a child to his mother. Kristen could just see Mike sitting, back to bark, with his laptop on his knees, his legs curled up closer to him. He seemed rather irritated by something . . . Scratch that. He seemed really mad about something.

"Okay guys! I got him in! We can go now," Kristen said, heading over to the group. Trip! Ker-splat! Oh well. Kristen pushed herself up onto her feet again. To her surprise, and secret pleasure, everyone else was heading toward the, for lack of a better term, desert. All except for Mike, anyway.

"Mike?" she asked, padding toward him. "Mike? We're ready to go now." The soft sound of her words echoed oddly in the quiet woods. A hand lightly grasped her shoulder, causing her to gasp.

"Don't," a quiet voice whispered in her ear. "I'll do it. He's pissed about something called 'The Network'." As they watched, Mike slammed his laptop shut, then opening it up to turn it off. Improperly, Kristen noticed. As far as she knew, Mike had never treated any computer so poorly before, even as a small child. Dante was right – he certainly _was_ pissed off about something.

Mike stormed over to her and Dante, who was still hovering by her shoulder. "Are we ready to go?" he growled at her, angrily clutching his silver and blue laptop. Kristen, too shocked to respond, merely nodded. He stomped off after Chrysis, leaving Dante and Kristen alone to follow.

Brows furrowed in concentration, Kristen tripped and nearly planted her face in the brown trunk of a tree. Nearly. A firm hand grabbed her upper arm before she'd quite managed that feat.

"Don't worry about it. He'll calm down sooner or later," Dante murmured. They began walking again.

"I hope it's sooner rather than later," Kristen replied, stumbling along beside Dante, not taking his advice about not worrying. Why did he wait for her?

"You aren't the only one. I'd rather be locked up in a small room alone and unarmed with Keira wanting to rip out my throat than out here, armed, with Mike pissed off at me," Dante muttered. Kristen laughed hollowly, using Dante to keep her from falling again.

"I'd rather none of us were mad at all." Dante shrugged and looked away. The harsh half-light that came from the disappearing sun burned into their night-accustomed eyes.

"You gonna let me out now?" Jeremy squawked.

"No," Dante answered for Kristen. "Never." Poor Jeremy's eyes bulged at the thought.

"Knock it off, Dante," Kristen said. "Of course we'll let you out. Just not yet." When they finally caught up to the others, Kristen let go of Dante and addressed Chrysis and Mike. "You two go first, and then Keira, Fayore and Dante will follow."

"And then you'll lemme out and I'll fly at the guards! Maybe _they'll_ save me from your cruelty!"

"Yes, yes, Jeremy," responded Kristen distractedly. "And then I release Jeremy and chase him toward the guards." Everyone nodded and Chrysis and Mike started off. But not before Fayore, who had obviously picked up on Mike's rage, told them both he loved them.

Fayore let go of Keira, finally, and looked up at her. "Hey Keira? Can I use that free piggyback ride now?" Keira sighed, dropping to one knee. Fayore grinned and scrambled onto her back, giggling. "Giddy up!" he laughed, flicking his imaginary reigns as if Keira were a horse.

"I thought this was a piggyback ride, not a horse-back ride," Keira retorted, moving at a slow pace.

"Oh . . . Well, uh, what do you say to pigs to get them to move faster?" the little wyrwolf asked.

"Nothing – you aren't supposed to ride pigs."

"Oh . . . Can you please move faster, Keira?"

"Oh alright," she said and walked at a slightly faster pace, as if to catch up to Mike and Chrysis.

Dante turned to Kristen. "Keira bet Fayore a cookie and a piggyback ride that she could stay upside down longer than he could. Keira got annoying, so I pushed her down." And then Dante left, racing to catch up with Keira.

"Oh. Okay then," Kristen said, though no one was around to hear her, except Jeremy. She watched her five friends, wondering what would happen to them if they got caught. She shuddered to think of what Prince Zorinthos would order done to them. And even more than that, Kristen hated the idea of putting her friends in danger because of one of her stupid plans. Even Dante, though he still irritated her most of the time. When Chrysis and Mike were about halfway between her and the fort-city-thing, Kristen unlatched Jeremy's cage. Jeremy shot out of the cage like the bullet from a 50 caliber sniper rifle. He was a scarlet streak against the pale brown sand, zooming straight for the guards at the top of the fort. Kristen raced after him.

"Jeremy! Jeremy!" Kristen cried, streaming past Keira and Dante, practically flying over the cooling sand. Straight for the guards. Dante began running after her, muttering something about 'that stupid bird'.

Meanwhile, 'that stupid bird' was pecking at a guard who was desperately attempting to ward off the terrified, speeding cardinal. ""Help me! Help me! That evil witch is gonna put me back in her accursed tiny prison! Save meeeeeeeeeee!" Jeremy cried.

"I'm not _that_ bad," Kristen said to herself, skidding to a halt in front of the giant wooden doors to the fort. If they were attacking the place and not trying to get in with as little suspicion as they could, it would be no problem to light those doors on fire. It would be hard to gather enough kindling for it to actually light and stay lit, but that's what armies were for, right? "Hey! Hey Jeremy!" She shouted, leaning back so she could barely see his small red body zipping around the guard's head. "Come back!" Peck, peck, peck. Kristen really hated being ignored when she was talking to someone. "Hey sir! Hey sir, can you get my bird back for me?"

"Trying!" was the distracted reply from above. Kristen held her hand up to block out the sun and squinted up at the guard as more guards ran over to help him. Dante, beside her now, muttered something and started attempting to scale the wall. He, more or less, succeeded. Kirsten stowed this in the back of her mind, for it might prove useful later. Dante was excellent at climbing walls, and probably other objects as well, that were not meant to be climbed.

"Hey! Sir! I bet I can get him!" Kristen called up.

"Can you? Can you really?"

"Noooooooo! Don't make me go back in there!"

Ignoring Jeremy's cries, she yelled, "Yeah! Just let me and my brother up there!" Quietly she hissed, "Get down Dante!" He slid down just in time for a couple of guards to see him standing next to her, and she and Dante waved.

Slowly the doors creaked open to real a dusty little village, much like all those old little films about ancient Azagarith without any modern technology whatsoever. Surprisingly, it looked rather cozy, what with the daily life one would expect from a rather secluded town. There was even a small group gathering to giggle and snicker at the soldiers in their vain attempt to capture Jeremy.

Dante strode over to the door that obviously led to the stairs up to the top of the walls, Kristen right on his heels. A small smirk grew on her 'brother's' face as they padded up the steps. "And how do you propose capturing that stupid little bird of yours? Especially when he is so utterly terrified of you?" This was not asked without its fair share of amusement.

"That's where your assistance comes in," Kristen said, grinning. Dante scowled. "I chase him to you and you," Kristen smiled, shoving the cage into his chest, "catch him."

Dante grimaced, but took the cage anyway and hid it behind his back as Kristen pushed open the wooden door. The sight that greeted them was, at the very least, amusing. The guards, all of them, were frantically waving their arms at what appeared to be nothing. A closer look revealed a quick red blur.

The older vampyr waved two of his fingers in the air, towards the left, and Kristen nodded, sneaking past the guards. She positioned herself facing Dante and nodded once to her 'brother'. He waved back, releasing the trap. "Sic 'em, Kristen," he muttered.

"Jeremy! Jeremy, come here! Come here!" Kristen begged. "I promise I won't hurt you if you'd just _come here!_" By now Chrysis, Mike, Keira, and Fayore would be at the gates, waiting to appear polite and courteous. And hopefully somebody had managed to make Mike at least _look_ like he didn't want to kill something.

"No! I'll not suffocate today, thank you!" Jeremy cried, zipping away from her.

"It's not working!" one of the guards shouted, swiping in vain at the red bird. Kristen joined the fight, steering Jeremy toward Dante.

"I'd rather _die_ than go back in there!"

"Dante, now!" Dante lifted up the open cage suddenly, Jeremy flying straight in, a smirk on his pale face. Stuck halfway in, Jeremy was shoved the rest of the way through by Kristen with help from the guards.

Panting, the guard Jeremy attacked first smiled and thanked both Kristen and Dante. "What can we do fer ya fer getting' that wretched bird under lock an' key?" It seemed the further North they went, the thicker the accents would become.

Before Kristen could answer, Dante cut in. "Actually, sir, we would appreciate a roof over our heads for the night and a good meal in our bellies. That and some money would be nice – I'm afraid we were robbed on the way here and most of what we had was stolen from us."

"Aye, we can get that fer ya," the guard confirmed. "Jus' find the inn an' tell good ol' Willow Jack that Bernard sent ya."

"Sir," Kristen interjected, "there's six of us. Are you sure the inn can accommodate us?"

"Six? I only see two of ya," Bernard said, leaning to the right to look around them.

"Our friends are down by the gate, sir," Dante commented, jerking his hands almost nervously toward the southeast side of the city. Bernard turned and leaned a little further forward. He stared down at the one person that was staring up at him.

Mike was busy fiddling with his laptop again and Keira was trying to get Fayore under control – he was busy chasing a butter yellow butterfly. Chrysis had her head tilted back at an awkward angle, her hand above her eyes to block out the sun, to stare at him with wide gray eyes.

Bernard looked back at Kristen and Dante. "Where're ya headed ta, with a group like that?" he questioned, tipping his head to indicate the three vampyrs and on wyrwolf at the waiting gate.

"Elesin," Dante answered quickly. "We've got infor – "

"Elesin?" Bernard's eyes opened wide. "You won't be getting' in there unless you've got somethin' the Prince is after."

"We might have some information he wants."

""Might ain't gonna cut it, kid. Either ya do, or ya don't," Bernard informed them. Dante nodded. "But we'll send ya to the next city, Verintha." He started past the two vampyrs, the twilight darkening quickly.

"Pardon my asking," Kristen threw in quickly, "but what exactly is this city called? We've only heard this line of cities referred to as The Path."

"'Tis Darango, miss. I'll be sure ta get ya a map as well." Dante and Kristen followed their new friend down the stairs to the sandy ground. Fayore ran up to meet them, flinging his arms around Dante's waist. Keira rushed after him, anxious to keep Dante from throwing the little boy into the thick stone wall beside them. Chrysis tapped Mike on the shoulder, stepping back a little at his glare. She motioned over to the group and he sighed, staring back down at his laptop and allowed himself to be led over to the others.

Bernard disappeared into the staircase for a moment and reappeared with two rolled sheets or parchment. "Map o' the town," he said, tapping the first one. "Map o' The Path," he said, tapping the other. Bernard handed them both to Kristen who thanked him as she pulled Fayore off of Dante. A Dante angry enough to growl was probably a Dante angry enough to do some serious damage to a small child. Sensing the need to start moving again, Mike turned off his laptop, shut it, and placed it back in his black leather container.

The six companions walked over to the nearest pub, surprisingly close to the gate, to figure out where they were supposed to go and how to get there. They soon found a conveniently medium-sized table in a corner away from most everyone else near a fire, which they also found convenient. As they walked over to the table, Kristen hissed triumphantly, "You guys have to trust me now." Unfortunately, their oh-so-convenient table only had three chairs, so Dante pulled up one from a different table and sat in it backwards. Mike and Keira shared a seat and Fayore sat in Chrysis' lap while Kristen took the last available chair.

"Anyway," Dante said, completely ignoring Kristen, "on to more important matters." He spread the town map out on the table, having Fayore, Kristen, and Keira hold down the edges for him. "We are . . . here," he declared, placing his fingertip on The Raven's Mug pub that was close to the gate.

Keira looked over the map, leaning around Mike to do so. "So we need to get _here_ before nightfall," she said, the tip of her finger partially covering a small bed-shaped mark labeled 'Willow Jack's Bed & Breakfast'. Chrysis nodded.

"Which means the easiest route there would be heading left on Carrol, left on Hart, right on Hart, right on Bolivar, and Willow Jack's should be right at that corner." Chrysis traced the little street-lines with her finger.

Fayore grinned. "So what are we waiting for?" Dante rolled up the map of Darango, swatting Kristen's hand away because she had stopped paying attention. He glanced warily at Mike, hoping he wouldn't start messing with his laptop here. Thankfully the over-weight vampyr showed no sign of wishing to argue with the blasted thing for the moment. Excluding the impatient drumming of his fingers and the dark glint in his chocolate brown eyes, of course.

The happy-go-lucky wyrwolf slid out of Chrysis' lap onto the dusty floor, poised to take off running like a track star from Cerentia. Chrysis stood on her toes to see around a villager to stare out the window. When everyone was ready to go, Kristen whispered, "On your mark, get set, go!" and Fayore raced away, ducking and twisting around villagers and guards just off duty. If they hadn't know where Fayore was headed, the vampyrs would have found themselves very, very worried. (All except Dante, of course.)

Willow Jack's Bed & Breakfast was a rickety old three story building. In fact, the inn really reminded Kristen of Mike and Chrysis' house, only Willow Jack's was most definitely _not_ abandoned, judging by the intense racket coming from inside. The wooden walls had been painted a brilliant blue, though the paint was peeling away and several of the boards were warped. The large, gold painted double doors were flung wide open creating a 'thud' sound Kristen could barely here. A young looking man, maybe in his early to mid twenties or so, stumbled out, unable to keep his balance had it not been for the girl on either side of him keeping him upright. Obviously he was drunk, with the strange, goofy smile plastered on his face. "Welcome, welcome! Welcome ta Willow Jack's . . . " Here a confused appearance washed away his drunken smile. "Willow Jack's Bed . . . Wait, no, that's upstairs . . . Welcome ta Willa, Willow Jacksss . . . Nevermind!" he snapped, more frustrated with himself than anything. "If yer here, ya know where here is an' ya don't need me ta tell ya." Willow Jack squinted at the five vampyrs, like the people that need glasses and don't have them do when they need to read something. "Ya are here, aren'cha? All, uh, all . . . fifteen uhv ya? I don't have room fer fifteen, er twenny uhv ya."

"Sir – " Chrysis started.

"Willow," the man interrupted. He swayed slightly, leaning into the brown-haired girl on his right. She giggled and pushed him upright again.

"Willow, then. There's only five of us, six if you count the little boy with red hair that just ran in – "

"What boy?" Willow's voice grew cold, frosty even. His deep blue eyes grew even darker with suspicion, calculating the possibility of a sudden, sneaky attack.

"My little brother," Keira answered quickly. "He's seven years old and has longish dark red hair and big gray eyes. He's tan and scrawny and was probably running at top speed." The usually aloof (or angry) girl seemed genuinely concerned about the wyrwolf's welfare. Now why would Keira care so much for a little wyrwolf boy and hate Chrysis, a member of her own race, so thoroughly? It was a question that had been puzzling Kristen for a while.

The suspicion radiating from the drunk man didn't lessen in the slightest. In fact, Keira's description only served to make him step back and turn, as if to call for help or security or something.

"He probably took a wrong turn somewhere," stated Dante. _We're better off without that treacherous little monster with us anyway, _Dante thought firmly, though he couldn't help but notice that things did seem a little . . . uneventful without Fayore around.

"Oh I hope he wasn't kidnapped or attacked or something!" Chrysis exclaimed, fiddling with the silver chain of her necklace near the back of her neck.

Irate and impatient, Mike tapped his foot on the cobblestone street and drummed his fingers on his silver laptop. Mike practically growled, "I suggest we split up and search for him."

"Who are you, Fred from Scooby Doo?" Chrysis asked, grinning. She knew that for his fifth birthday Mike had had a Scooby Doo birthday party, but the others didn't. Mike scowled at her.

"If we split up, someone has to stay here in case Fayore shows up," Kristen said, trying to get things done. Mike beat Dante to the punch, so it was agreed that Mike would stay behind while the others split up and 'searched for clues'.

"Right. So, in ten minutes from now we all meet up back here, okay?" Kristen decided, seeking and gaining approval from her shorter companions.

Kristen took off down Hart, past Willow Jack's, thinking Fayore might have gone further on Hart instead of taking a right onto Bolivar. She scanned the street for Fayore, pretending he was Waldo from all the Where's Waldo books she had owned in her childhood. Of course, only a few buildings down the way she smelled sausage, the really well-made, expensive kind, cooking over an open fire. It was barely resistible to her – she could just imagine Fayore, determined as she was to do everything right, getting distracted and taking a 'short' rest at the source of the smell.

The stand, as it turned out, looked like it was about to collapse under all of the frivolous items piled on it. The extra attractions seemed unnecessary to Kristen because of the delicious smell of the sausage, but she figured that the stuff might have been gifts from regular customers or else were used to make sure the stand wouldn't bore the people that lived here. Kristen's attention was drawn to the elderly couple running the stand, who were maybe five hundred thirty or so years younger than Father Nolatari. They were sitting beside an open fire, cooking the sausages that gave off that tell-tale scent. Kristen's stomach growled and she glared down at it, as if telling it shut up.

Fayore, as predicted, was sitting beside the couple, chattering away at them and devouring their food. She sighed and made her way over, staring down at Fayore, blissfully unaware of her presence. "Fayore," she said just louder than Fayore's own voice. He jumped, startled. His gray eyes were huge, the look on his face clearly displaying the thought in his head. 'Uh oh!' "You weren't at the inn," Kristen said severely, a bit quieter now that Fayore had stopped talking. She glared down at him much like her mother would have if she'd found out Kristen had been at the church that Saturday. "We're all looking for you." Kristen glanced over at the old couple, nodding in agreement.

"How are you going to pay back these kind people?" Kristen asked. "We have no money, Fayore." As much as she liked the little kid, he _had_ to understand that it wasn't okay to go off on his own and that he couldn't just take things from others without paying them back.

"Oh, don't worry about that," the woman said, smiling at Kristen kindly.

"'Turns out his grandmother was a friend of a good friend of ours," he husband said dismissively.

Kristen nodded. "He still needs to learn to pay back other for what they've given him," she explained. The couple nodded.

"Well, we do need someone to buy some more sausages tomorrow morning," the old man said, patting Fayore on the shoulder. "I'm sure little Fayore here could do that for us while Marian and I set up here." Fayore beamed up at his tall vampyr companion, and now, it would seem, mentor.

"I can do that, Kristen! I'll help the out all day long, too! You and Dante and everyone else won't have to worry about me anymore," he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Kristen smiled and reached out a hand for Fayore to hold onto while she took him back to Willow Jack's. She thought it was rather sad that Fayore wanted her and Dante and the others to be proud of him that desperately, but there really wasn't anything Kristen could do to fix that at that moment. "I'm sure you're right, Fayore, but right now we've got to get back to the inn where Mike is waiting for us." The wyrwolf smiled and gripped her hand tightly, warmly, and stood up and waved to the couple.

"G'bye Mr. and Mrs. Stevens!" he called as Kristen led him across Bolivar to Willow Jack's.

Back at the inn, Mike sat at a relatively empty table with only a few half full beers on it and immediately pulled out his laptop to fiddle with which he'd been itching to do all night. The moment he pressed the Power button and the gears began whirling, the entire main room of the inn fell silent. A second before then, Willow Jack's must have been the loudest place in town. _What's their problem_, Mike thought. _Haven't they seen a guy with a laptop before?_

"Ah, sire," Willow Jack slurred as he stumbled toward Mike, alone but for the keys jingling in his hand. "I didn' realize ya were a rankin' ossifer when I saw ya, sir. I gots a couple a' rooms fer ya, if'n ya wan' 'em. Theys gots locks too, sir. I 'plogize fer mah d-drunkenness an' all, but I'm sure ya un'erstan'," Willow said handing Mike the keys. "Is there anythin' else yuh'll be needin'?"

Mike shook his head sharply. He mumbled a quick, "No." Willow remained there, holding his breath. "Um, carry on," Mike said, a bit louder. The inn burst back into life, albeit a bit more reserved than before. The vampyr shuddered, puzzled and disturbed.

He returned his full attentions back to his laptop, booted completely now. "Pull up Network . . ." he muttered. Carefully, Mike positioned the cursor of the Network button – a black 'N' in an old calligraphy font. Around it was a lightning bolt-shaped circle that faded from ice blue to fiery and back again. The screen dimmed slowly, darkening faster and faster until it was almost black. Mike smashed down keys, frantic to keep the computer online. "Escape! Escape!" Mike hissed. His chocolate brown eyes were glued to the screen. "No, no, no! Crap!" he cried quietly, hitting a series of keys. The sequence appears erratic, but it made sense to the computer, because Mike let out a sigh of relief and relaxed back in his chair. Good Creator, Mike thought. Back home, Mike had read about those things – PCG's, they were called. Programmed Computer Guards. There were four different kinds. The first one, the Isarux PCG, the Rux for short, was the least dangerous and the most common. So long as you were doing anything wrong, the Rux would do nothing. However, it would set off an alarm the moment you did something wrong. The next one, the Isarox PCG, or the Rox, would set off an alarm immediately. The Isarix PCG, the third one, (the Rix) sets off an alarm and tries to keep the intruder from getting any further. The last one, the Isarex PCG, (the Rex) was the most dangerous and the one Mike just encountered. Its sole purpose was to locate and annihilate intruders, destroying the computer in the process. And if the intruder was a Hacker, they would be killed as well.

Extremely skilled Hackers, as they were called, could log into the Network from anywhere except places where electrical impulses were cancelled. Those Hackers actually went into the Network and physically interacted with the Network itself and all the information inside. Or so the stories went. They were actually a bit darker, focusing more on the dangers to discourage people from hacking into the Network and changing the settings. However, even the threat of death didn't dissuade Mike – he'd had his heart set on becoming a Hacker from the very first time he read about them.

At that moment while Mike was reassessing his current technical dilemma, Kristen strode in with Fayore skittering behind her. "Hey Mike!" Fayore greeted loudly, jogging over to him with a big grin on his face. "Guess what?" he asked excitedly.

"What?"

"I'm gonna be busy all t'marrow so you an' Dante an' the others don't gotta worry 'bout me!" The little boy seemed supremely pleased with himself despite his heavy breathing.

"Well," Mike reasoned, for once glad to be distracted, "Dante will be pleased."

"Yeah." In all honesty, Fayore looked happiest with that than anything else and Kristen couldn't blame him. What she wouldn't give for Dante to just quit scowling around Fayore! It was really getting on her nerves how he refused to see everyone in an equal light. Like how Chrysis was the poor, misunderstood child and Mike and Keira were just there and how Kristen and Fayore were criminals convicted of some horrible crime. For instance, Kristen in Dante's eyes was a dirty thief and Fayore a mass murderer.

"Tell Mike where you were," Kristen prompted, mainly to distract everyone from their thoughts.

"I was down the street at Mr. and Mrs. Stevens' Sausage Shoppe," Fayore announced. "They knew Rose and we talked a bit about her and my family. Plus, they even let me have some of their sausages," Fayore practically purred in ecstasy.

"So what will you be doing tomorrow?" Mike asked.

For a moment Fayore frowned. "Kristen said I had to repay them fer eatin' their sausages, so I'm gonna work fer them t'marrow." He suddenly scowled, peering at the screen of the laptop. "Whaddus it say? Th' big words in red?"

Mike offhandedly glanced back at the screen. "Oh. It says 'Access Denied.' I've been trying to hack into the Network."

"What's hack mean?" Fayore questioned.

"To devise or modify a computer program. Or to illegally access in this case," Mike said. "It can also mean to cut, notch, slice, or sever –"

"Mike," interrupted Kristen.

"Right, anyway, the way I used the word hack, it usually refers to files on the Network." Fayore nodded, memorizing the new information.

"So what's the Network?" he asked, tipping his head to the side.

_Second person today_, Mike thought oddly before dumbing down his earlier explanation for the wyrwolf. "It's the thing that every computer relies on to function," he answered.

"Training a young killer more like," one of the inn patrons snorted. Kristen glared at the offender and started off toward him, but Willow got to him first.

_SMACK!_ Every head turned in shocked silence to the scene. "Don't ya dare talk 'bout a rankin' ossifer like that! If he wants ta tell some kid 'bout what he does, that's fine! An' ain't no one here gonna say other'ise!" Willow bellowed, slamming his fist on a table and jabbing furiously at Mike.

"Willow!" the man protested. "Willow, ya know jus' as well as th' resta us that it's his people's fault!" Willow glared at him, looked as if he was about to hit him again.

"They's pertectin' us, Sam!" he growled. "They's pertectin' us from the vampires!" Willow ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair, staring at the ceiling. "Sammmy," he moaned, sliding onto the bench next to him. "Times're hard, yes, but ya don't need ta go blamin' it on them! They's only tryin' ta help us, ta keep us safe."

"More like control us," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

"Sam, I know yer parents're being harassed fer their goods –" Fayore had snuck over to the two men and was peering at Sam with his head cocked to the side. "Your parents wouldn't happen to be Mr. and Mrs. Stevens who own the sausage stand near here?" Sam nodded, mildly interested. Fayore grinned. "I have ta help 'em t'marrow," he said. "Yer parents are really great."

Sam smiled back half-heartedly. "Yeah, but the Prince's Officer's are eating us out of house and home. Willow's been kind enough to lend us a room, but we can't stay here forever." Sam sighed, leaning against Willow's arm. "If we don't find another source of income soon, we won't have any money to run the business with anymore and we'll be exiled to the Savage Wood."

"It's not so bad," Kristen interjected. "About the Savage Wood, anyway. We just came from there and we know of a safe place you could stay. It's a dangerous journey once you get into the woods, but worth it." Perhaps leading a family back to Cerentia was what Jeremy needed to cheer him up. He would be so upset after being locked up for so long. Thinking of Jeremy reminded Kristen that he was with Dante, who did not like him in the least. She wondered how they were getting along, looking for the found Fayore . . .

Every time Jeremy squawked, Dante furiously rattled the cage out like a lantern in the night. The oldest vampyr ground his teeth and stomped through the town, his wrath informing the villagers to keep away . . . or else. "I hate that stupid kid," he muttered to himself, peering into the darkness. _Skwah-awck!_ Dante glared at the cage and shook it violently. "Shut up, you stupid bird!" he growled loudly. The girl that had been brave enough to approach him skittered away. "Nosy child," spat Dante, turning to stalk irritably back to Willow Jack's without that Cain-forsaken wyrwolf.

Keira ran through the streets yelling "Fayore!" How could he have gotten lost when the directions were so simple? Frantically she checked every nook and cranny of every street she turned onto. Keira remembered being lost once. She'd had a grand old time, wandering in the forbidden forest and trying to find her way back home. For her it had been an adventure. But when her mother found her last at night, she'd been scolded and spanked and grounded to her room for a day and then the house for a week. Her mother had told her never to do that again, to never scare her like that again. Now Keira knew how her mother felt then. "Fayore? Fayore! Where are you?"

Chrysis loped along, gazing into each building to locate supplies. She had found Kristen and Fayore fairly quickly and decided to spend the rest of her free ten minutes doing something useful. The general store, Smith's Supplies, had things that they could not get from Bernard, such as pots and forks. That was on Stalton. Chrysis turned onto Ross and continued, checking on the glassblower and the jeweler and on the potter again. Next she found something useful. Tailor Jenny's Tailoring. Repetitive, but entertaining. Chrysis skipped into the store, a tinkling bell ringing as she did so. The front from of the shop was relatively small, with completed outfits lining the walls on dummies, a slab of stone with a number on it setting at the 'feet'. The walls themselves were bare oak, but the clothes more than made up for the lack of beautification. An archway in the back wall was covered by an extravagant azure drape. While gazing around the room, a very short woman, perhaps in her thirties, scuttled out from behind that drape, bright yellow sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

She had thin, wavy, mousy brown hair falling out of its bun and a glaringly vibrant blue bodice over a neon yellow dress. The woman looked over-worked and stressed out as she scuttled over to Chrysis. "You girl! What on Zelynte are you wearing?" she barked up at the vampyr. Chrysis looked down at herself. She wore a burnt orange tee large enough to hide in and snow camouflage pants that could comfortably fit her and Kristen and Keira in.

Chrysis laughed awkwardly. "This is abstract, even for my hometown in the Savage Wood."

"I'll say!" exclaimed the woman, tugging on Chrysis' shirt sleeve. "I'm Jenny, the owner of this shop. Who're you?"

"Chrysis."

"Crisis?" Jenny echoed. "Odd name," she mumbled.

"No ma'am. It's Chrysis. C-H-R-Y-S-I-S. Chrysis," she corrected, following as Jenny pattered behind a small desk Chrysis hadn't noticed in the far corner.

"Ah, okay." Jenny pulled out a rolled measuring cord, marked every centimeter with a thin white ribbon. In a commanding voice she said, "Stand up straight, dear."

Chrysis stepped back. "I'm just here for prices tonight, ma'am. I was wondering it would cost for two outfits for three girls my age, two boys my age, and seven year old boy."

"Five children thirteen to nineteen summers, one child five to twelve . . ." Jenny pressed her tongue against her cheek, recalling and adding numbers. "Times two . . . That'll be two cardinals for the littlest, two ravens for each girl – that's six ravens, plus four more for the boys . . . One falcon and two cardinals," answered Jenny triumphantly. Turning to Chrysis, she asked, "Casual of formal?"

"Casual."

"Ah, okay. Bring in the lot of ya t'marrow fer measurements – comin' from th' Savage Forest, I expect you'll be tired. Out!" instructed Jenny, ushering the girl through the door with the tinkling bell. "Remember t'marrow!" Chrysis waved and nodded back at her before skipping down the street toward the inn. Tailor Jenny had taken up quite a bit of her free time.

Chrysis slowed, stepping up silently behind Dante and carefully grabbing Jeremy's cage from him. "You shouldn't shake him so," she informed Dante reproachfully, releasing the gold latch. "There there, Jeremy," she cooed to the traumatized bird. "It'll be okay now."

Keira came running up panting. "Where's Fayore?" she blurted as soon as she could breathe.

"In there," Chrysis answered. She was almost shocked by the vampyr girl's concern for the boy. But then again, she thought, she cares about him. Like family. Dante shot Chrysis a curious look. However, it seemed Keira was too relieved to notice.

"Who found him?"

Chrysis answered, "Kristen." Again Dante looked at her suspiciously. "I saw them, so I went to look for supplies and stuff. I found the general store, with kitchenware and camping gear and all. Well, it doesn't have much camping gear. Mostly blankets and bedrolls. Then I found the tailor and asked her about prices. She sad she wants to get our measurements tomorrow."

"Cost?" Keira asked.

"One falcon and two cardinals," replied Chrysis promptly.

"Birds?" Dante echoed. No doubt Jeremy was asking the same thing with his hoarse chirp.

"Coins," corrected Keira.

"Anyway, she wants the six of us there tomorrow at six o'clock. Which means we'll have to run by Bernard before then and we'll still have to make a list of things we need and try to find them here. And their prices. We'll need bedrolls, utensils, a pot, a frying pan, boots, food, –"

"It's about time you got in touch with reality," Keira muttered before storming into the inn. Fayore was easy to find: he was already running toward her.

"Keira! Keira! Guess what?" Fayore excitedly squeaked, throwing himself at the vampyr's waist. "I –"

"Had me absolutely terrified something awful had happened to you?" Keira scolded harshly. Fayore quivered against her legs. "Are in some much trouble it's a wonder I haven't beaten you silly yet?"

"I'm sorry!" he wailed, squeezing her middle. "I'm sorry! It sme'led so good and they lemme have some! Kristen's makin' me spend t'marrow payin' 'em back. I'm sorry . . ."

Keira dropped to her knees, making Fayore cling to her neck instead. "Shh, shh. I was worried bout you, that's all. Calm down, hun, calm down. Shh." Soon the wyrwolf relaxed and his tears fell to sniffles.

"Okay, Keira," he said, loosening his grip. Keira hoisted him up and carried him over to Mike and Kristen. "Mike's some kinda officer now," the boy mumbled into her bleached hair as they reached the vampyr in question.

"What?"

"Apparently I'm some kind of ranking officer now, Keira. In Prince Zorinthos' army," he explained while his sister and Dante walked over. "I reckon I'm pretty low, though, because I'm not much of a fighter." Keira nodded as Chrysis snorted.

"Not much of a fighter, my right foot!" Mike glared at her and stuck his tongue out. "He can't even knock me off my feet!"

"Shut up, Chrysis! You're a lot better than you look!"

Chrysis beamed at him. "Anyway, since we need new clothes and supplies, I found Gerald's Goods and Tailor Jenny's. She said she wanted us to be there at six o'clock for measurements," she relayed to Kristen.

"Good job. Do you know how much it will cost us?"

"For the clothes, it will be one falcon and two cardinals. I don't know about the general store."

"Right then. So tomorrow we should get measured, check prices and supplies at Gerald's, and then drop by Bernard's to see how much he can help us and how much we have to do ourselves. And tonight we need to make a list of things we need to replace." Kristen paused, running through all this in her head. "Actually, we should go to Bernard's tonight, so we can try to budget ourselves."

"Ya can't go out tonight," Sam said. "It's past curfew. Even a rankin' officer ain't allowed out 'less they's on duty. Same with guards."

"Oh, sorry. We didn't realize," apologized Kristen, turning back to face him. He looked a little bit like Mike. He was only a bit taller than Mike, certainly not thin but not fat either, and he had brown hair several shades darker than Mike's. But they had the same large brown eyes and round face. The resemblance was striking.

"'Sides, sweetheart," Willow added, "ev'ry town on The Path's got the same curfew. After six no one's allowed in. After eight, no one's allowed out. And by ten, ev'rybody's gotta be inside, or else."

"Or else what?" Chrysis asked.

"You'll be put in jail. It's just outside the city walls, but it's real small, so sometimes they use the basemen' here ta keep lesser 'ffenders."

"Mike, quit fiddling with your laptop a minute," Kristen heard Keira demand. She pushed Fayore's head back up on her shoulder because he was out like a light. Mike glared at her.

"What do you want?"

"To know where our rooms are," retorted Keira. Fayore's already asleep on me."

"Right," he replied, digging in his laptop bag for the keys Willow had given him earlier. When he found them, he handed them to Keira. "They're the only ones with locks on them." The vampyr nodded and dragged him upstairs with her anyway.

"Well," Kristen started, turning to look at the others. "We need to find ways to make money since Bernard can't buy everything on a soldier's pay."

"Obviously," Dante agreed sourly. "Perhaps Willow will have a job for one of us."

"Good idea," Chrysis echoed hollowly. She padded quietly over to Willow, who was cleaning one of the tables near the fireplace. "Sir?"

"Willow," he corrected.

"Willow, are there any jobs my friends and I could do for a little money?"

"There's sweepin'. Sam hates it, but with all the stuff that gets on the floor . . . Y'know how it goes." Chrysis nodded in and understanding fashion. "There's a broom in the closet behind the bar there," Willow continued, pointing to the left of the mirror, also behind the bar. "Dishes also need washin' and water from the well out back brought in."

"Right," Chrysis replied, nodding again. She turned back to the other vampyrs. "Dante, why don't you sweep while Kristen, Sam, and I do dishes?" Dante grunted and strode over to the closet, grabbing the nearest broom. As Kristen padded over to Chrysis, Dante began swiping at the floor irritably. Sam led them into the kitchen, leaving Willow and Dante alone. The kitchen was a complete mess, like whoever had been cooking was a small child and their mother had not had a chance to clean up after them yet.

"Willow has problems cleaning up after himself," explained Sam, pushing past the girls to go out to the well.

Kristen sighed. "Okay, Chrysis, why don't you and Sam wash the dishes and I'll clean up?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

The taller of the two vampyrs padded carefully through the kitchen, avoiding the various globs of indescribable . . . food on the floor. _He needs to put up a sign that says, 'Proceed with Caution.'_ Eventually she found what she was looking for: a relatively clean washcloth. Sam directed her to the lye and she set to work scrubbing the nasty cabinets.

Several hours later, Kristen stepped out of the sparkling clean kitchen, triumphant in her success but exhausted by the effort. Who knew anything could ever get so dirty? Seeing the main room deserted, she stole up the stairs, tiptoeing to the first locked door. She discovered that it was unlocked and pushed it open a crack, gasping at what she saw.

Keira lay on the floor with her head and arm on Mike's side with Fayore draped across her stomach. Kristen grinned and quietly shut the door again. She tiptoed to the other room which, thankfully, contained Dante and Chrysis sleeping on different beds. Kristen padded back into the other room and pulled a blanket across her three companions and put a pillow under Mike's head. Taking a pillow and blanket for herself, Kristen settled in the other room to sleep on the floor. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know._


	9. The Tailor's

**__****A.N. -** _This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**The Tailor's**

Kristen groaned and rolled over to face an expectant Fayore who, upon seeing her light green eyes flicker open, grabbed her forearm and dragged it until she was sitting upright. He appeared concerned.

"Chrysis says we gotta go meet Jenny now, fer meshurmens," Fayore mumbled.

"Measurements. M-E-A-S-U-R-E-M-E-N-T. Add an 's' to make it more than one," corrected Kristen, still half asleep as she stood and followed the boy.

Halfway down the stairs, Fayore peered up at her. "Why'd ya sleep in so long?"

"Hmm? Oh, I stayed up and cleaned –"

"My kitchen!" Willow shrieked. "My beautifully messy kitchen!" Kristen caught Fayore's eye and winked. He nodded, stifling a snicker.

"Oh dear," he murmured, leaping down the stairs and skipping over to the older man as he moaned in the doorway.

"Oh shaddup, Willow," Sam snapped good-naturedly. "Now no one will find food that eats them before they can eat it." Kristen giggled in the stairwell.

"You shaddup! I can't find anything anymore," Willow sputtered, sulking. He crossed his arms at Sam, like a child just told 'no'.

"Ya oughtta thank that real tall girl, Kristen, fer orginizin' it fer ya," Sam called out, smirking. Kristen tiptoes down the stairs just enough to see Sam standing at the stove, cooking what seemed to be a chicken rotisserie-style _inside_ the stove.

"Should've asked," Willow grumbled. Louder he announced, "I'm not goin' in there till it's messy again, Sam."

"Fine! Yer a terrible cook anyway!" Sam laughed, stepping over to Willow and hugging him. "Love ya, though," the younger man murmured into Willow's neck.

"Love ya too," Willow whispered back, holding him tightly. After an awkward moment, Willow pushed Sam way. "Keep an eye on the chicken, 'kay? I gotta go yell at that Kristen girl fer mussin' up my kitchen." Sam laughed and padded back into the sparkly kitchen. Willow turned sharply, nearly knocking over Fayore. His dark brown eyes grew wide when he saw the boy staring up at him.

"Don't tell," he whispered. "Don't tell anyone." Fayore nodded. He was confused because he could not figure out what was so wrong with telling someone they're loved.

"I won't, I won't. I promise," the wyrwolf mumbled, mainly just to placate Willow. When the man was convinced Fayore was sincere, he glanced up and caught sight of Kristen.

Kristen, who was older and less naïve, knew why Willow wanted them to keep their lips sealed. "Don't worry – we'll keep quiet. No one will find out from us," she said empathetically. Most likely the city was full of homophobes or they had some law against same-sex anything, judging by the way Willow was acting. She could connect to them because she knew what it felt like to be shunned for something she couldn't help. No one else in Cerentia was clumsy at all.

Willow nearly collapsed in relief. "Thank you," he murmured before slipping into the kitchen. Fayore turned back to Kristen, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground.

"Come on, Fayore. Let's go meet the others at Tailor Jenny's."

Together they slipped into Tailor Jenny's main room, which was already fairly crowded. The rest of their group was spread to the far corners being measured. Chrysis was back in the far left corner, leaning on a desk while a lanky girl with long, golden-blonde hair held up a thin rope, marked every centimeter with a small white ribbon. This girl's clothes were a sharp contrast to Chrysis' sand-stained jeans that may have once belonged to Mike and crumpled purple shirt that may also have once belonged to Mike. This girl wore a full skirt in a thin, vivid green material, a white blouse, and a white corset with an upside down green shamrock embroidered on the back. She walked around in the same light leather slippers as the other tailors in the room.

Over by the curtain, Dante was wincing as an overly giggly girl was batting her eyes at him more than taking his leg measurements. She was short and very tan with sun-streaked braided hair and big brown eyes. The knee-length yellow skirt she wore had black stars sewn just above the hem. She has a matching tunic and a black corset with yellow stars at the top and bottom. Kristen barely caught a snippet of their conversation. She said, "– Yer _so_ cute!" and he said, "I am not." Poor Dante. Accused of being cute. Kristen giggled as she looked for Mike.

Mike kept twitching way from his tailor and she kept apologizing. As far as Kristen could see, there was no reason for him to twitch or her to apologize. The girl had no needles and wasn't measuring in any awkward places. Perhaps, Kristen thought, neither of them likes being so close to a stranger. It was almost like watching those awful romantic comedies she couldn't stand to sit all the way through. Glancing back, Kristen amended that comparison. It was _exactly_ like watching those movies.

All in all, Kristen sort of felt bad for the girl. She looked like one of the vampires everyone here was so afraid of. She had skin almost as pale as Mike's, long black hair, and pale blue eyes a shade or so lighter than Dante's. Actually, she and Dante could have been taken for related. Her beautiful skirt, blouse, and corset were the color of roses in full bloom. The only thing that kept Kristen from being in awe of her looks was the fact that she looked whole heartedly _un_confident.

Keira was the closest to her and Fayore. She also seemed to be having trouble with her tailor, or maybe it was just Keira. She was kicking the boy measuring her and it didn't look like she was pulling any blows. "I am _not_ an animal," she suddenly growled, yanking her arm away from him. "Do not _stroke_ me like one!" With that she hit his head hard enough to send him falling on his behind.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his head and smiling. "I like 'em when they fight –" Thunk! Mike's only wireless mouse bounced off the back of the boy's head and skittered toward Chrysis. "Prince's teeth! What was that for?"

Mike whispered, "She doesn't like you, so lay off."

"Or what?" he retorted, trying to provoke Mike.

"Or I'll kick yer butt straight ta the middle o' Tangora!" Fayore cried from beside Kristen. She had to grab his arm to make sure he didn't storm over there and try. The whole room fell silent, waiting. What was Tangora anyway?

"Oh?" the tailor questioned, turning his attention to the wyrwolf. "And how's a little kid like_ you_ gonna kick _me_ into an ocean that probably doesn't even exist?"

"Does too exist," a small but very commanding voice called from over near Dante. "M'late husband took me there once, t'th'coast. Gorjus. Simply gorjus. Mos' beautiful thing I ever clapped m'eyes on." Jenny sighed dramatically. "But that was afore th'war, afore we was all ceralled inta The Path. Tangora is a beautiful ocean, Patrick." She placed a small hand on his forearm. "Calm down, dear. Besides, I don't want it getting' out that yer doin' stuff ya don't need ta be doin, other'ise, I'ma hafta drop ya, y'know."

Patrick nodded. "Father'd be furious," he agreed, rubbing he back of his head. "Still hurts, though, Miz Jenny."

"That's what ya get," Jenny scoffed, pulling back her hand, "fer messin' with another man's girl." She nodded self-righteously and padded away to check on Chrysis.

Mike turned bright as the outfit his tailor was wearing. "Sh-she's not my g-girl. She's j-just a fr-friend," mumbled Mike. His head was lowered and he was wringing his hands.

Keira, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and glanced down at Fayore, giving him a half smile. "Finally woke that giant, Faye?" He beamed and nodded so much he had to stop and clutch his head because he was dizzy.

"I am not a giant!" Kristen protested as Jenny padded up and tugged on her arm.

"You keep tellin' yerself that and maybe yeh'll shrink," she muttered as she pulled her over to where Chrysis had been. (Her 'mutter' was quite loud, to be sure. Kristen would have bet her favorite headband she never got away with saying anything under her breath growing up.)

"I wish," Kristen mumbled, allowing herself to be ushered up onto a box. Jenny then put a box next to Kristen and set a stool on top of it and waved over Chrysis' tailor to help her.

"Jessica will take yer measurements while I go tend t'that little boy that brought you," Jenny informer her, patting Kristen's hand because she couldn't reach much farther up. The woman scuttled away behind the curtain and when she popped out barely a second later, Jessica was right behind her. Jenny swopped over to Fayore as Jessica loped to Kristen. Must have has a recent growth spurt, Kristen mused, watching the awkward movement.

"Hello! I hope ya don't mind callin' me Jess – Jessica makes me feel like I'm in trouble." Kristen smiled, thinking of Mike as she told Jess her name.

"How old are you?" Kristen asked as Jess clambered onto the stool on the box.

"Fourteen summers," announced Jess, bending to tuck the end of the measuring cord under her toe. "Keep that there," she instructed and stood on tiptoe to reach the top of Kristen's head. Immediately she dropped down and grabbed the thin stone slab and chalk lying on the floor. "One hundred an' sixty-seven marks . . ." Jess stood again and pulled the cord up to her shoulder. "How old're _you_?"

"Sixteen winters," Kristen answered automatically. Years may have been confusing, although by the look on her face as Jess tucked the tape under her toe once more, so was winters. "Uhh, winters are more noticeable in the forest," she explained.

"Right," Jess replied. She measured up to Kristen's shoulder and asked her who her friends were.

"Well, the girl you measured first is Chrysis and she's fifteen winters. Her older brother Mike, the one who threw the mouse, is seventeen winters. Keira, the girl Patrick is measuring, is also seventeen I think. She said something about it to Mike once."

"Patrick prefers Pat," interrupted Jess, quickly scrawling down the width of Kristen's waist. "But do go on."

"Oh, okay. Pat, then. Anyway, Dante is seventeen. He's being fussed over by that brunette girl. Fayore's the youngest and he's only seven." After she had finished speaking, she noticed Jess was chuckling. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's Rae. Jenny calls her Rachel." Jess laughed, grabbing Kristen's arm and holding it out. "She's always flirting with boys."

"Well, it seems to be bothering him," Kristen commented. Jess laughed again.

"Rae can't take a hint."

"Even when he's bashing her other the head with it?"

"Even then."

"Poor Dante," Kristen sighed, raising her right arm for Jess.

"Poor Dante indeed," agreed Jess.

"Changing the subject, but who is the girl in red?"

Jess glanced over to Mike and his tailor. "Oh. That's Viktoria. Everyone thinks she's a mean, blood-suckin' vamp, but we know better. Vikky's actually real sweet, but real shy, too. Mmmm, think I got everything . . ." Jess mumbled, skimming through Kristen's measurements again, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

"Shouldn't you go help Vikky? She looks like she's having . . . issues." Kristen stepped off the box, staring at the girl trying (and failing) to measure the width of Mike's torso.

"Ya bet yer head thing she is! But Jenny wants her ta learn ta get over it and do her job, an' Jenny says she can't do that if someone's always helpin' her."

"Good point," Kristen relented. _Jenny's really wise. She and Father Nolatari would get along great. I wonder how he is. I wonder how Cerentia's doing. And my family . . . I bet Fred's still playing that vampire killing game. I hope Cassie isn't still persecuting humans. Just because I'm not human any more doesn't mean I don't still feel for them . . . _Jess lightly punched Kristen's arm.

"Crazed male, straight ahead," she warned the vampyr. Kristen nodded. Dante ran behind her, peeking out over her shoulder.

"I swear I'll love you forever if keep that creepy witch away from me!" he said, his voice cracking horribly in his haste. Kristen promptly began to giggle at 'love you forever.' Dante glared at her. "I mean it, Kristen! She's going to smother me to death if you don't!" Kristen, however, fell to the ground laughing. Soon, though she managed to inform Dante that that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. And he glared even harder at her for it. "I mean it! Just keep that psycho woman away from me!"

"And if I do you'll love me forever?" Kristen chortled. Oh this was going to be fun!

Dante dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Yes! _Please!_ Just make her go away!" he begged.

Kristen sat up and blinked a couple of times, and then looked at Dante. "You know, I really don't think I want you to love me forever . . ."

Awkward silence . . .

"Then I won't."

"Alright."

Another awkward silence.

Rae walked out of the back room and scanned around for her newest lover-boy. She found him sitting on the ground next to Kristen, staring awkwardly at the ground. "DANTE!" she squealed, flouncing over to him.

"Look, uh, Rae," Kristen interjected before the girl could pounce on her prey. By golly she was going to make fun of Dante for this until they died. And considering they were both vampyrs, that would probably take a very, very long time. "Dante isn't feeling so well –"

"Ohhh!" Rae whined, placing a hand on his shoulder and trying to stare deeply into his eyes.

"He's really claustrophobic and doesn't like people touching him." Rae jerked her hand away.

"Are ya okay, honey? D'ya need some quiet time?" she crooned. It was all Kristen could do to keep from laughing again.

"Yes," Dante croaked. "I just want to be left alone."

"Oh, okay then, honey," Rae murmured uncertainly, keeping an eye on Dante until she reentered the back room.

Jess stared at Dante, impressed. "Wow. She's real serious 'bout ya." Dante groaned and buried his face in his hand, causing both girls to laugh.

"Shut up!" Dante pouted. "It's not funny." They, of course, laughed again.

After a moment, Kristen slyly asked, "So Dante, what was that about you loving me forever if I got her to leave you alone?"

"Though you said you didn't want me to," Dante retorted.

"Never said I didn't want to make fun of you for it." Dante groaned and slammed his head on the floor and moaned again, cueing Jess and Kristen to laugh some more. Fayore and Keira padded over and joined them on the floor.

"What's so funny?" Fayore questioned Kristen, paying close attention.

"This girl really likes Dante," she snorted, unable to control herself.

"I gotta go," Jess mumbled, heading toward the back room, trying to hold in the giggles.

The wyrwolf's eyes grew very, very wide. The utterly blank look on his little, pointy face rendered Kristen incapable of reading his emotions. "Poor Dante!" she wailed suddenly, flinging himself onto the vampyr's back. "Poor, poor Dante! That icky girl just wants to settle down and make a family, but we won't let her!" Quietly he added, "Not with you anyway." There was a long pause. No one was quite sure how to respond to that. Then Fayore said to Keira, "Girls like that're gross, but sisters an' mothers an' aunts an' grandmothers an' cousins an' stuff aren't."

Kristen opened and shut her mouth twice before coming up with a suitable response. "That's right," she said. "You keep away from girls like that, Fayore, because they're just bad news." Kristen could feel Keira's 'What-the-heck-are-you-saying-you-freak' look bore into the back of her neck and she could tell that Dante was thinking the same thing. "Keira and Chrysis and I are like sisters, right?"

"More like aunts," Fayore said.

"Well, alright. Aunts, then. And Dante and Mike are uncles, right?" Me and my big mouth, she thought. Dante's probably going to throw Fayore into a wall and beat me till I'm way past dead for that.

"Yeah!" the adorable little wyrwolf shouted, burying his face in Dante's back. "I love you, Uncle Dante," he murmured.

"Gerroff me," Dante growled, albeit not very meanly. It seemed even Dante could be affected by such pure sweetness. However, Fayore was smart enough to obey before Dante became violent.

"You shouldn't be so mean to our nephew, _Uncle Dante_," Keira teased, earning herself a death glare.

"You have absolutely _no right_ to call me that," Dante snapped at the blonde, and then turned on Kristen. "You didn't have to get him started on thinking of us as family!"

"That's not very nice, Dante," Kristen laughed. "I thought you promised you'd love me forever if I helped you out back there," she teased. Both Keira and Fayore hooked onto the words 'love me' and promptly forgot the rest.

"Love hurts," Dante replied sourly.

Fayore's eyes widened as much as they possibly could. "You an' Uncle Dante're gonna get _married?_" Keira laughed so hard she tipped over, gasping. Kristen herself laughed, though she rather hated the thought. Dante . . . Well, Dante reacted like Dante.

"No, Fayore. I was just making fun of him for something his said earlier," Kristen explained. It had been really funny the way Fayore had said that, though. It would have been funnier if it hadn't been her.

"I thought Uncle Dante thought he was too good fer ya, Aunt Kristen. Boy was I wrong!" The boy looked so elated.

"I was using an expression," growled Dante. "I didn't mean it." That burst Fayore's bubble.

"So I was right. Ya do think yer too good fer Aunt Kristen."

Keira finally stopped laughing at the thought of 'Uncle Dante' and 'Aunt Kristen' getting married. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Last night, after ya fell asleep, Uncle Mike was tellin' me about re-lay-shon-ships, 'cause I asked him why ya hated Aunt Chrysis so much an' why Uncle Dante is so mean ta Aunt Kristen. We decided that Aunt Chrysis reminds ya ov someone else ya hate an' Uncle Dante thinks he's too good fer Aunt Kristen."

"Oh. Okay then. I don't think that's the actual reason Dante hates my guts, but I suppose that's a reasonable conclusion," Kristen stated, blinking. That put a new spin on her views of both Dante and Keira. Well, Keira anyway. Dante had already proved he felt superior. Kristen still wanted to shove her booted foot in his face.

"But why?" Fayore demanded. "I can't imagine how anyone could hate ya, Aunt Kristen. Yer goal focused an' smart an' helpful an' un'erstandin' an' nice. Yer real nice, Aunt Kristen."

"I'm pretty sure I made a bad first impression," she said.

"Just 'cause yer clumsy?" Fayore walked on his knees over to Kristen.

"Well, Fayore," the tall vampyr began as Fayore sat in her lap. "A lot of the time, clumsy people are also stupid people. As confused as I was when we met, I probably seemed like an idiot. I mean, some of the clumsy people I've met are actually pretty smart. This one girl I read about was as clumsy as I am, but she was the _stupidest_ person I've ever read about. It took her half the novel to figure out that she was, well . . . I probably shouldn't rant about it now. Point is, Dante's one of those people who can't stand stupid people and probably hates me for it."

Fayore glanced at the floor for a moment and then looked back up at Kristen. "I bet ya don't feel that way."

"You're right. But the more I talk about it, the less biased I become."

"Do I have any say in how I feel?" cried Dante. Kristen had to admit, he had a point.

"No," Keira joked, reaching over and patting Fayore.

"Yer so mean to Uncle Dante," laughed Fayore, pushing away Keira.

"I'm not your uncle!" Dante exclaimed.

"Shut up, Dante!" Kristen snapped. "You're more related to him than the rest of us. I am so sick and tired of you pissing everybody off, and then you turn around and expect us to care when you want help? No. You need to start treating people right before we'll do anything to help you." Kristen stood, dumping Fayore out of her lap, and walked to the curtain door. "Rae!" she called. Dante moaned somewhere behind her. "I can't figure out what's wrong with Dante! It isn't what I thought it was."

"Okay!" Rae yelled with a clatter of metal on wood. "Gimme a bit and I'll be right there!" When she came out, she had a bundle of fabric, a knife, needles, thread, patterns, and someone's measurements. "I hafta make Chrysis' clothes. Jenny's gonna come out an' explain what all yer getting' 'cause you dress so funny." Rae wrinkled her nose at that and sat down next to Dante. She chattered to him about fabrics and clothing styles in each city along The Path. Rae turned and looked at Vikky. "Ya done?" Vikky nodded. "Good. Go get Jenny." Again Vikky nodded and did as she was told. A very relieved Mike stepped down from the stool and timidly walked over to Keira and Fayore.

Suddenly Jenny strode out of the back room, flinging the curtains out of the way. "Chrysis asked for two outfits fer all o' ya. So that's what we're makin'. Anyway, since y'all dress so," she wrinkled her nose, "odd, I thought y'all didn't know how we dress here. So I'm explaining while the apprentices," she glared at Rae, "get to work." Rae gathered her load and rushed to the back room, shooting Dante an apologetic glance. "Each boy has pants an' either a tunic or a shirt," she started.

"What's the difference?" Mike questioned.

"A tunic's longer than a shirt. It usually hits yer knees while a shirt goes just past the waist uv yer pants," Fayore answered. "I got nuthin' but tunics."

"We could make a tailor o' ya yet, boy. Anyway, the girls have dresses or skirts, shirts or tunics to go with them, {can't spell under-dress thingy that starts with 'sh' sound}, and corsets. Any questions?"

"Uh, yes. What are the corsets for?" Mike asked after looking around for his sister.

Suspicion creeping into her voice, Jenny asked, "Why would that concern _you_?" Mike flushed scarlet. He knew what she was thinking he was like. Kristen noticed her tense muscles and how she turned like she was ready to bolt into the back room. _What's back there that she thinks she might need against Mike?_ she wondered. _And why would she need to do _anything_?_ Kristen had met a few people who liked cross dressing. She had found those people strange and out of place, but she hadn't _feared_ them.

"It's something Chrysis would want to know," he mumbled, eyes cast down at his mud covered shoes.

"Ah!" Jenny purred, relaxing. "Well in that case, since y'all're from the Savage Wood, the corsets're cause the girls are of marryin' age. O' course, once they're married, they'll be in dresses. It's a forced custom 'long The Path, but we were all doin' sim'lar things afore then, so nobody minds much."

"Ohhh," Mike breathed. "Chrysis will agree with that. To make sure which girls are eligible and which aren't."

"What if I don't _want_ to get married?" growled Keira, as if the custom was a personal insult to _her_.

"Well then, I suggest ya make yerself as unattractive as possible. Urathyn's very much 'gainst women. Hanthoras is 'gainst males and they're right next ta each other. Y'can 'magine th'kinds o' argumen's they have all th'time." As an afterthought, Jenny added, "or pertend yer already married or engaged ta one o' yer friends here."

"Find. But I'm not getting married to anyone," replied Keira haughtily.

"I'm not sayin' ya hafta," Jenny said. "I'm jus' warnin' ya."

"Thank you," interposed Kristen. "I think we'll be leaving now so you can get to work."

"Who elected you leader?" Dante snapped at her.

"Common sense," she retorted, picking up Fayore and letting him climb around to her back.

"Who's Common Sense?" Fayore asked from his perch behind her.

"Common sense isn't a person," explained Kristen. "It's the name used for all the usual things people should know. Like don't touch fire or don't stab yourself with a knife. It's important, but people often take it for granted."

"And it's not very common anymore," added Keira, glaring at Chrysis.

"Oh. Okay then." Fayore paused and then tipped his head to the side. "Do _I_ have common sense?"

"Yes, Fayore. You do. It's just different from ours, because you were raised with different thins to worry about. "

"Okay!" he exclaimed brightly. He squeezed Kristen just below her neck. Suddenly he froze, scrunching up his face. "Where's Chrysis?"

"I . . . don't know," replied Kristen, glancing hopelessly around the room.

"Where does she _go_ all the time?" Keira groaned. "She's always disappearing and never tells anyone what she's really been doing!"

"Actually, I've been talking to Bernard about purchasing supplies," Chrysis responded, her head poking in from the door. He head was just thin enough that when she peeked in, the bell had not rung.

"How much will it cost?" Mike asked. "We could help out around the town while our clothes are made. Maybe we can even pay for it all ourselves."

"Not from what Bernard says. There aren't any jobs open that will pay enough for us to buy everything ourselves." Chrysis stepped inside and held to door open for Bernard. He was tall and muscular, with legs the width of a small dog. He had short brown hair and dark tan skin and wore rough clothes in a deep peach color. Uniform, Kristen suspected. The peach blended well with the sand. Bernard scanned the room with beady black eyes, almost scowling. Then he grinned.

"Haven't been here fer years," he laughed. "M'wife takes care o' this stuff now. She just gets the cloth from ol' Haveritt fer a basket o' bread."

"So you're wife's a baker?" Dante asked. Perhaps they wouldn't have to come up with money for everything. Bernard nodded.

"Sure is. Makes good money at it, too. An' I'm sure if ya ask her nice nouh, she'll give ya some bread fer free. The higher quality stuff y'all still hafta pay fer."

"He's not exaggerating," Chrysis interjected. "She's a really generous woman."

"Right," Mike said, ushering his eccentric sister to the point. "So do you know everything we need and how much it costs?" he asked. Chrysis beamed at him – she knew he knew she would have figured out what they needed before ever returning.

"We need six pillows, six blankets, six {plates & cups & eating utensils}, one pot, one skillet, one tin pail, one spatula, one ladle, one wooden spoon, one gutting knife, one regular knife, six pairs of hiking boots, five packs, two tents, and food that won't spoil."

"Tha's quite a bit young lady," Bernard complimented. She had forgotten the more important thing of all. "Ya fergot flint an' steel."

"I always forget something," Chrysis explained. "We also need towels and soap and something to clean our teeth with."

"Well I don't know 'bout that last thing, but I got extra towels an' lye fer ya."

"Thank you," Kristen cut in. "Can you tell us more about your currency? We didn't use coins in the Savage Wood."

"Certainly. Actually, I'm sure you can ask your brother's new friend." Bernard grinned. He knew how troublesome Rae could be – she and his daughter were steadfast friends and had been since they were too young to talk.

Kristen smirked. "I just hope she keeps him busy, that's all. He and Keira cause problems because they can't get along with Fayore or Chrysis." She gave Bernard an ironic smile. Dante had so far laid off despising her in favor of targeting Fayore.

"Ah, well, I'm sure Rae'll drive 'im crazy 'nough ta beg ya fer help."

Kristen grimaced. "He already has."

From somewhere across the room, Chrysis giggled. "You know, Mike, you and Keira would make an adorable couple." _Uh oh_, thought Kristen, bracing herself for Keira's inevitable explosion.

"Quit hoping, freak, because it's never going to happen. And there's no way _anyone_ is going to tell me I'm adorable."

Chrysis shrank back, her gray eyes wide and clear. "I never called you adorable," she whispered. "I meant the idea."

"It's not adorable, it's disgusting!"

"Keira, she's entitled to her own opinion –" Mike started, but Bernard cut him off.

"Not ever'where. There's Urathyn. Women got no rights 'cept what their closest male relation gives 'em, within limits. If they ain't got no relations and they ain't old 'nough ta be married off, they're put in a foster home."

"What happens to them if they can be married?" Mike asked, thinking of Keira. Kristen would be okay because Dante was her 'brother' and Chrysis would be fine because she really was his sister. Keira had not one but Fayore, and Mike highly doubted that any girl could be taken care of by a little kid. At least according to the officials.

Bernard hesitated before answering. "They go ta a place called th'Marriage House. There're two 'long The Path. One in Urathyn and the other in Hanthoras. I heard th'occupants o' both Marriage Houses're treated very poorly."

"The Houses are open to anyone looking for a spouse, though usually only the citizens of the town visit them."

"Sounds terrible," Dante whispered.

"It is, or so everyone says."

"What wonderful things to look forward to," Keira said sarcastically, breaking the silence that was born after Bernard agreed with Dante.

"But at least we know what to expect," Kristen replied firmly before Chrysis could say anything, to prevent more conflict. "Now why don't we leave and go to that other place –"

"Smith's Supplies," interjected Chrysis.

"We'll go there and figure out how much money we need to purchase all the stuff Chrysis listed off a moment ago." Luckily for her, everyone agreed that that was a good plan, and Kristen had her group out of the shop and all the tailors (including Rae) kept inside.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	10. Shopping

**__****A.N. -** _This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Shopping**

Smith's Supply Shop was nothing like Tailor Jenny's. It was huge and packed with shelves and shelves and shelves of stuff. There were books and bags and pots and pans. There were chairs and cloaks and boot and pillows and blankets. Smith's Supply Shop even had a walled-off room for food.

When the seven of them walked into the shop, a wave of strong scents filled their noses: tanned leather, cold steel rusty nails, old wood, and citrus fruit. Fayore sneezed so hard he fell back into Mike, who pushed him back up again. "I'm uh-ler-jik ta oranges," he explained sheepishly.

"Allergic is spelled A-L-L-E-R-G-I-C, just so you know," Keira said, side-stepping past Mike and Fayore. She looked around the vast store and turned to her companions, suggesting, "Maybe we ought to split up and look for different things. This place is huge and there's a curfew." They agreed to this and Bernard took his leave, saying something about 'hafta tend ta my wife.' They split up into pairs, each pair searching for a different set of items on Chrysis' list. Keira and Kristen went off looking for kitchen things, Dante and Fayore looked for boots, blankets, and other such appreciated things, and Chrysis and Mike were looking for preserved foods.

Kitchen things included cups and bowls and plates and forks and pots and pans and spoons and knives. And spatulas, Keira mentioned. They scanned the shelves in silence until Kristen though she would explode and cover the place with . . . whatever was in her veins now she was dead (and until she thought her face could not be any number from falling). It was the perfect chance to ask her about her problem with Chrysis! She had been wondering about it since the last night they had seen Father Nolatari back in Cerentia. Cerentia . . . Home. Kristen sighed. She missed home, with her annoying little brother and kind of creepy sister. She even missed her too-prefect mother and dorky dad. _Think of the goal, Kristen_, she reminded herself.

"Keira, what is your problem with Chrysis? Did you two know each other before or something?" she demanded to know.

Keira opened her mouth ready to lash out cruelly, but for some odd reason when she looked t Kristen, she closed her mouth, glanced down, and sighed. Shoving her hands in the pockets of the leather jacket she insisted on wearing, she answered quietly, "My parents really obviously played favorites with me and my younger sister, Jazlynn. When we were little, I was Father's favorite and Jazlynn's was Mom's. Then both Father and Mom favored Jazlynn for a long time until Jazlynn completely ruined my life. That was when Mom took me and ran off." Keira sighed again. "Chrysis just has that sort of charm to make people like her that Jazlynn had. They sort of look alike, too."

There was a short silence when they came upon the table settings. The whole set together was six robins. Thirty six robins for six wooden cups, six wooden plates, six wooden bowls, six wooden forks, and six wooden spoons. Kristen shuddered to think of that cost added to the cost of everything else Chrysis decided they needed.

"So it's just that Chrysis is so much like Jazlynn, not anything personal," Kristen murmured half to herself, half to confirm with Keira.

The other vampyr nodded. "Yeah . . . She takes it personally, though, right?" Kristen nodded as they began walking toward the front. "I don't mean to hurt her – it's just that sometimes I can't handle how much she resembles Jazlynn."

"I understand. She reminds me of my little sister, Cassie, minus Cassie's disturbing thirst for blood." At that Keira laughed. "And she reminds Dante of his sister as well."

"Seems like she's everybody's little sis," Keira mumbled.

"Except Fayore's," corrected Kristen.

"Well, yeah," Keira consented.

Meanwhile, Dante and Fayore were also having a heart-to-heart talk while they looked. Fayore was having a tough time keeping up with Dante and his long strides due to his lack of height. "Why d'ya hate me so much?" asked Fayore, jogging to keep up with the vampyr.

"Because you're untrustworthy."

"Why am I untrustworthy?"

"Because you're a wyrwolf."

"What's wrong with bein' a wyrwolf?"

"Your leader is trying to kill off my people."

"What if I don' wanna follow Prince Zorinthos? What if I wanna stay here with y'all an' help y'all?"

"You can still betray us at any time and get us all killed."

"Why would I wanna betray y'all an' go back ta bein' treated awful?" Fayore asked just before he ran into a barrel of ladles and knocked it over. Ladles spilled out and clattered all over the hard wooden floor that the wyrwolf also hit with a thump.

Dante stopped and leaned down close to Fayore. "Because you're an idiot and don't pay attention," he said clearly and harshly before striding off, leaving Fayore cleaning up the ladles as tears streamed down his face.

On the other side of the store, Mike typed up the things Chrysis called to him as they explored the food room. "You like her," Chrysis said, scanned the shelves for jars of preserved fruit.

"Do not," he mumbled. She glanced up at Mike and smiled.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?" she teased.

"It's an awkward topic of discussion, Chrissy, and you know it."

Chrysis grinned. "Because you like her."

"Shut up," Mike demanded, his face a bright cherry red.

"Dried apples are a robin a jar," Chrysis announced, "and I don't mind that you like her, I just don't want you getting hurt." She paused, then added, "unless you want her to, in which case you keep your trap shut."

"Oh, keep your mind on the task and quit gossiping!" Chrysis smiled. That was more like the Mike she had known for two and a half years now. When they walked down the next isle, leaving the food room, they found Fayore stuffing a couple of ladles into a barrel. As they came closer, Chrysis noticed his wet cheeks.

"Ladles are two robins each," he mumbled, voice cracking as he wiped his short sleeve over his face. Mike drummed the information into the document he had open.

"Where's Dante?" asked Chrysis and hugged Fayore.

"Dunno," he mumbled, a fat tear leaking from the corner of his eye.

Chrysis took the edge of her sleeve and wiped it away. "What happened?"

"I asked Dante why he hated me so much," Fayore sobbed, curling into Chrysis. "He said I was untrustworthy an' I'd betray y'all an' then I ran into that barrel an' he called me an idiot an' said I don't pay attention an then he walked off an' left me!" The wyrwolf clutched Chrysis with all his little bitty might, soaking her tie-dye shirt with his warm, salty tears.

Breaking up the sentimental moment, "Guys, we still need to look for salted meats." Chrysis glared at Mike for a moment, and then looked down at the boy.

"Here kid, how about you come with us and help us find the meats, okay?" Sniffling, the little wyrwolf nodded, his small fist wrapped in her shirt. "Okay. C'mon, let's go."

"I can sniff out the meat, like I did with the sausage an' y'all had ta find me," mumbled Fayore.

"Great idea," Mike said, stopping. "Why don't you lead us then?" Fayore nodded, sniffling some more and tugged Chrysis along behind him.

When they met back up at the front of the shop, Fayore was as bright and happy as usual, although his eyes were still red. Keira caught sight of him and scooped him into her arms, growling. Fayore giggled and hugged her. Kristen thought it was a strange reaction, but said nothing. Maybe growling at someone meant 'hello' in Fayore's Clan.

"Who made you cry? I'll kill them, I swear!" Fayore gulped. He didn't want to lie to Keira, but he didn't want her to kill Dante either.

"I'm fine, Aunt Keira, really. I just ran inta a barrel, that's all."

Suspiciously, Keira scolded, "Then why did you come back with Mike and Chrysis and not Dante?"

"'Cause he didn't notice that I'd run inta the barrel an kept walkin' while I cleaned up the stuff."

"Why didn't he look for you when he noticed you weren't with him anymore?" she asked fiercely.

"I dunno! Maybe he did an' saw me with Uncle Mike and Aunt Chrysis an' fig'red I was fine there. Or maybe he thought I'd slow him down or somethin'." Keira glared at Dante, but did not say anything to him.

"Well, we won't leave you alone with him anymore, that's for sure." Then they exchanged information, pausing every once in a while to unnecessarily give Mike time to type. The amount totaled forty-three ravens, two cardinals, and six robins.

"So how are we going to earn all that?" Keira demanded to know. "I mean, how are we going to earn that much so quickly?"

"Odd jobs?" suggested Mike.

"Bernard said he could give us a raven a week," Chrysis mention. "That would put it at a little under a year, if we just relied on Bernard."

"Someone could work at the inn," Dante said.

"Not me," Kristen threw out glumly. "Willow got mad at me for cleaning the kitchen." Chrysis laughed. "We should start walking back to the inn. It's almost curfew." They all nodded and started back.

"I could. I think I saw a plug-in in the main room. I can charge my laptop when I'm working, have it scan for viruses and stuff."

Fayore tugged on Keira's ponytail. "Can I still work at the Stevens'? Please?"

"Of course," Kristen told him. "And maybe you can ask them if they have anything on our list of stuff that they'd be willing to give us."

Chrysis blinked at her. "Great idea, Kristen. We can ask Bernard and Willow, too. No food, though. We'll need to buy that just before we leave."

"Alright. Fayore keeps working at the Stevens' and Mike works at the inn. What about the rest of us?"

"Well, I can help out Bernard's wife, Elizabeth. She already knows me and she said she's been needing their basement cleaned out for a few weeks now. She hasn't had the time."

"Mother and Rose used to make me cook for them. They said I was really good at it."

"Actually, do you think you can work at Tailor Jenny's?" Kristen asked. "Rae really likes you, so you'll probably be able to get in to help easier than the rest of us would."

Keira added, "I can cook pretty well, too."

"Kristen's a better chef, though," Mike said. "You admitted it yourself, Dante."

"But Willow hates me."

"Sam doesn't!" Fayore said. "If Sam can sneak ya inta the kitchen an' ya cook something and Willow eats it, I bet he won't be so mad at you an' he'll let you cook!"

"So it's settled. Dante's tortured by Rae, Kristen tried not to get kicked out, and I can try getting a job at the Supply Shop."

"When was that brought up?" Mike asked, tucking his laptop safer under his arm.

"Just now, by me."

"Oh . . . "

"What about curfew, Keira?" Kristen brought up, patting Fayore's back. "You and Dante and Chrysis will have to worry about it."

"We're from the Savage Forest, remember?" Dante replied quietly as they passed a large group of wiry, bald monks in homespun brown robes. "Who knows what kind of habits we have?"

Chrysis grinned. "We're nocturnal, because the glaring sunlight makes it hard to hunt."

"What does knock-turn-uhl mean?" the wyrwolf asked, turning so he could stare quizzically at Chrysis.

"An animal active at night that sleeps during the day. Like," Keira paused, searching for an example, "wolves."

"I like wolves. They kept me comp'ny when I got kicked outta camp fer the night."

"Why were you kicked out of the camp?" Chrysis asked.

"Usually fer askin' questions an' sometimes fer disobedience, they said."

"Who are they? The Council?" demanded Keira. She felt more than saw him nod.

"Can I got inta the kitchen an' watch Sam cook?" he asked. "It smells real good in there." They were still several meters away from the entrance to the inn and Keira laughed. _Why does she like him so much?_ Kristen wondered. _She never said anything about a little brother._

"Of course you can," Keira answered. He hugger her and mumbled something about wishing 'Uncle Dante' loved him like she did.

"Chrysis?" Fayore mumbled, his face pressed against the vampyrs back.

"What?"

"You smell nice . . . Like lilacs . . ."

"Do you want to smell nice, too?"

"Yeah!"

"Then we'll set up a bath for you." Chrysis began walking toward the bar in the inn's main room. Fayore wrinkled his nose.

"Do I have to?" Obviously he did not like the idea of soap, water, and him all at the same time.

"You need one."

"I won't do it."

"Why not?"

"'Cause . . . 'Cause only the boys leavin' ta go get Initiated take one 'a those things. I won't do it. I won't betray y'all." The longer Fayore talked, the deeper he sunk his long, yellow nails into Chrysis' side. She winced.

"We know you would never do such a thing to us, Fayore, _despite_ what Dante says." The little wyrwolf shook his head, refusing to believe her. "Look, Fayore, Dante never liked wyrwolves to begin with, and then for the longest time he believed that your Clan murdered his little sister. And then you, a wyrwolf, come along and tell him his sister really didn't die and you keep bugging him. He needs time to think and adjust, Fayore. You can't expect him to change overnight." She gave him a goofy grin. "That, and I'll bet he was pretty paranoid before his sister died but didn't. So, are you ready to take a bath now?"

Fayore shook his head stubbornly, but his grip had loosened. "Well . . ."

"What do you mean, 'well'?" Chrysis demanded kindly.

"Aunt Keira an' Uncle Dante are mad all the time an' Uncle Mike's obsessed with his what-cha-ma-call-it an' Aunt Kristen can't walk in a straight line to save her life . . ."

"What about me?"

"Ya can be real, uh, absent-minded . . ."

"Do you think that maybe that's not the baths? That it's just who we are?"

Fayore violently shook his head. "No. It's the baths," he argued stubbornly.

"Fayore, the five of us haven't had a proper bath in three weeks. It _can't_ be the baths."

"It is! It's a perm'nent thing an' it gets worse the more baths ya take. It's too late to save y'all, but I won't let it happen to me!"

"Won't let what happen to you?" Kristen asked, striding towards them.

"I won't let the evilness o' baths 'ffect me like they've 'ffected you! I won't! I wont, I won't, I won't!"

"Says you," Kristen retorted, lifting the tiny boy and swinging him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "You're taking a bath whether you like it or not."

"Nooooooooooooooooooo! Heeeeeeeelp! Help meeeeeee!" screeched Fayore, struggling to put his little feet on the ground and flee in terror of the 'evilness of baths.' He hit and kicked and scratched and bit her. His awful, piercing shrieks filled her sensitive, vampyr ears so that she could ear nothing else.

Thus attired, Kristen walked back into the inn, slowing frequently to adjust Fayore on her shoulder. She ignored the shocked and utterly disturbed expressions on the faces of the guests as she stalked through the main room of Willow Jack's Bed and Breakfast. Speaking of Willow Jack . . .

"What are you doing to that poor boy?" Willow yelled suddenly, hopping up from the two-seater table he had been at with Sam and rushed toward them.

"Takin' me to my DOOOOOOOM!" Fayore screamed, pushing on Kristen's collar and shoulder.

Willow hesitated, puzzled. "Your doom?"

"My imminent DOOOOM!"

"Ummm . . . Your imminent doom? Didn't you practically worship her and her brother yesterday?"

"Back then I didn't know her _true_ intentions!"

"And what are those 'true intentions'?" Willow asked him following Kristen as she made her way to the well behind the tavern room. Kristen, he knew, had gone through the main room because it was the shortest way out. But that still didn't mean she wasn't scaring away customers.

Fayore stopped suddenly and stared Willow in the eye. "She's going to prepare me to be her mindless, aggressive slave."

"How?"

"By forcing me to bathe."

Kristen, by now, was perfectly aware that Fayore had stopped struggling and was already moving to grab Mike and Keira, sitting at a table nearby, so she could tell them to help her.

Willow laughed. "A bath? That's what this is about? A _bath?_ Baths are good fer ya! They get all th gunk offa yer body."

"An' soul," Fayore grumbled, glaring off to the side.

At the same time, Kristen was badgering Mike and Keira. She was in no mood to deal with anyone at the moment, with her bruised back and all. "Quiet flirting, you two, and get me a large tub and some warm water to fill it up with. Oh, and soap. Well need soap. Take it all out back, alright?"

Keira glared at her and roughly poked Mike, absorbed in his laptop, and motioned for him to follow. Keira then stormed off, Mike at her heels. Meanwhile, Kristen continued on her trek to the back door.

"Even if ya don't like water, a bath ain't all that bad, y'know, kid," Willow told Fayore. "The only bad thing 'bout baths is soap, an' that's only if it gets in yer eyes."

Fayore blinked. "If I can take a bath without . . . 'soap', I'll stop arguin' 'bout it." _Maybe I can convince 'em they're givin' me a bath when they aren't really . . ._

"But it's the soap that gets ya clean," Willow argued. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid. Baths're real fun with soap, 'specially when S–" Willow jerked and coughed awkwardly before going on. "When there's so many bubbles you can hardly breathe."

"Bubbles?" questioned Fayore hollowly. "Since when were we talkin' 'bout bubbles?"

"Um, soap an' water make bubbles, kid. Ya ever seen anyone take a bath afore?" _Sheesh, that forest really is as savage as they say. _

"Yes, once." Fayore shuddered at the memory. "It was scary. Two of the biggest men in the camp had to hold him down while Lord Veshnir cleaned him . . . He kept creaming like it was clawing him to shreds."

Thoroughly disturbed, Willow said, "That ain't a bath, kid. That's some kind 'a cruel torture."

"It was too a bath!" the little wyrwolf replied stubbornly.

"Mmmmm." Willow wasn't too sure they were talking about the same thing anymore.

Kristen dropped Fayore on the grass behind the inn's tavern room keeping her arm wrapped tightly around his chest to keep him from fleeing.

Keira came out lugging a large tin tub followed by Mike with several bars of soap. Kristen didn't think twice about why Keira, the girl, was carrying the heavier thing. She had long since become used to their way of doing things. Sam strolled out after them with a bucket full of hot water. "Heard this kid ain't ever taken a bath," he explained, gesturing toward Fayore.

Fayore eyed the soap suspiciously. They took turns getting the bath set up, dumping water into the tub. It was run rather like a fire brigade and made Kristen proud. When the tub was full and there was a good amount of bubbles, Kristen ordered Fayore to strip off his nasty clothes and get his dirty, stinky butt in the bath. Sulking, Fayore did as he was told.

Once Fayore was settled in the tub and Keira was watching him, Kristen went back inside to find Chrysis and gather a brush, a pail of warm water, and a scrub for Fayore.

"Do you know where a scrub is?" Kristen asked.

Chrysis smiled. "I was just on my way to get that," she said. "They keep this place organized just like . . ." Chrysis trailed off and walked away before Kristen could ask what she was talking about. Then she shrugged and went to fill her bucket with water.

On her way out, Kristen ran into Dante and told him to get her a towel and take it out back. He looked about to argue but Kristen gave him such a ferocious glare he padded away to do as he was told. Kristen continued outside to discover Fayore covered in bubbles and having a grand old time splashing Sam and being splashed back. She set down the pail and narrowly dodged being splashed herself by the little wyrwolf. "I'm guessing this wasn't your idea of a bath, was it?"

Fayore laughed. "Yes!" he shouted, getting a face full of soapy water. Spluttering, Fayore went on, "I'll explain later, okay?"

"Be sure to wait for the rest of us, okay?" Kristen said. She did not want him to just start babbling, especially in front of Sam.

"'Course, Aunt Kristen!" giggled Fayore, splashing at Sam again. And so the water-war resumed. Kristen went back inside to perhaps find Chrysis. On one of the tables near the stairs, Kristen noticed Mike's laptop sitting perilously close to the edge. As she moved to push it closer to the center, a word in large red font caught her light green eyes. ELESIN. Elesin . . . Kristen ran the word through her memory. Elesin was the capital of the wyrwolf empire. Elesin was the last city along The Path. _Elesin was their destination._ Kristen eagerly sat down and began reading.

ALL COMMANDING OFFICERS RETURN TO ELESIN IMMEDIATELY.

There has been confirmation that three to five vampyrs have escaped their holding. They were last known to be heading toward The Path. Two weeks to a month have passed since they escaped. They were last known to be heading towards The Path. The vampyrs cannot have gotten far. If you find them, incapacitate them immediately and bring them ALIVE to Elesin to discuss this and other important matters. This is a direct order from Prince Zorinthos. Failure is not an option. Dated May 28th (Yesterday).

Mortified, Kristen returned to the room she had slept in the day before and laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. After what could have been two minutes or two hours, the little snake Kristen found after her dream of Rose's 'death' slithered up onto the palm of her hand. She glanced down at it.

"How are you doing, little buddy?"

"Desssent. What'sss on your mind?" he asked, slithering up her arm. The feel of scales on the soft side of her forearm made her shiver.

"We're being hunted by wyrwolves now. Since yesterday." Kristen's throat was tight, her voice raspy as if she had been crying.

"But didn't you know that if you were disssscovered you would be hunted?"

"I never thought it would be so soon!" she moaned. Worry was eating away at her calm the way Fayore first gnawed on her leg.

"You left a watched sssity! It'sss amazing you've made it az far az you have without being hunted," the snake assured her.

"Yeah . . ." Kristen supposed the snake was right. Honestly, she should have expected it, especially since the wyrwolves must have known about Dante. "Say . . . What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'the snake.'"

"True. My name iz Sssssewaraté, but I jussst go by War." Kristen smiled. What a thing to cheer her up, making friend with a snake. What would Brooke have said?

Brooke had been Kristen's best friend for as far back as she could remember. They used to do everything together. She wondered about how Brooke was getting along without her. _Probably better than she ever did while I was there_, Kristen mused grouchily.

Best friend or not, Brooke was definitely the prettier of the two. She had long, white-blonde hair that shined gold in the right light and he was beautifully thin. Her skin was perfect porcelain, unblemished and without sign or wear. Brooke was a petite girl, maybe only Mike's height, with a rounded face and small nose. However, it was her eyes that grabbed people's attention and held it hostage. They were a very pale turquoise with a thing, jagged gold ring in between her jet black pupils and the edge of her iris.' And _she _never tripped either.

The sound of the door creaking open brought Kristen back to the present, but it was the over-whelming, gagging smell of lilacs that yanked Kristen back to reality. She jumped up, coughing, and landed with a _ker-splat_ on the floor.

"You know, no matter how bad I feel, thinking of you always makes me feel better."

Kristen knew that voice. She knew it very well.

"Thinking of you doing something horribly stupid, anyway."

Yep. Exactly who she thought it was.

"I hate you," Kristen grumbled, sitting up. Dante laughed at her. "What do you want?"

"Chrysis said you decided we would have some sort of meeting to discuss 'things.'" He looked at her oddly. "I'm rather curious as to what 'things' we are supposed to discuss," he asked dryly.

"Uh, well, I told Fayore he had to wait to tell us about what he meant by 'bath,' but other than that, I didn't decide anything," replied Kristen, flustered. Why would Chrysis lie about something like that? Maybe she just imagined Kristen told her that . . .

"Riiiiiiiiiiight. Anyway, I figured now would be as good a time as any to begin teaching you four. We'll start with abilities, so they don't occur when you're trying to do something important."

"Okay. Actually, I found something on Mike's laptop that was interesting –"

"Tell us about it in a bit. I'll round up the others," interrupted Dante as he began walking away.

"Okay," Kristen said meekly, feeling put out for some strange reason.

Dante stopped dead in his tracks and turned back toward her. "Was that a _submissive_ tone I heard?"

Defiantly, Kristen replied, "Maybe."

"Ah, there it went," said Dante, mock-remorsefully and walked out.

**_A.N. 2_****_ -_**_ Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	11. The First Meeting

**__****A.N. -** _This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**The First Meeting**

"Sooooo . . . Is everyone listenin'?" Fayore asked, looking around the room. He was sitting on a cot in Keira's lap, her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder. Mike was sitting on the other cot across the room, frowning at his sleek silver laptop, nervously tapping the side. Beside him, Chrysis lay with her head hanging off the side to stare at Fayore, her legs resting on the wall. Dante leaned against the window sill and Kristen sat up beside the door, watching Mike and trying to unravel his thoughts without success.

"M'kay. So a bath back in the forest was this thing the leader would do with someone leavin' ta go get Initiated. See, they'd get covered in this yellow gunk an' they'd have ta sit vigil fer a night –"

"Vigil?" echoed Dante hollowly. The candle in the center of the room flickered, covering his face in shadow for a moment.

"Vigil: a watchful staying awake or a watch kept," Mike responded, never taking his eyes from his computer. Kristen appreciated the dictionary definition because she had only understood the word from context clues in the books she read back in Cerentia.

"Anyway," Fayore continued, "they would sit vigil all alone an' in the mornin' the Lord and the oldest Elder would take 'em ways an' ways from the camp an' the Lord would wash 'em off while the Elder chanted somethin' funny in another language. I didn't see anymore 'cause Hesphyr caught me – back then he wasn't even second-in-command and he beat me on prince-ih-pull. An' then he 'splained that certain things here real special an' personal an' important an that Initiation was one of 'em. He said it was real rude an' wrong ta watch or listen ta or innerupt on of them thins 'cause they was so personal an' all." Fayore stared at the vampyrs, wide-eyed and waiting for a reply.

"So what was the whole ritual thing called again?" asked Dante irritably. He obviously had not been around for Fayore's tantrum.

"Oh, that was called a 'bath'. What Kristen had me do was wash up, that's all," Fayore pleasantly answered.

"Right, so anyway, half the reason I'm here is to teach you as much as I can about yourselves now," Dante said, "but there hasn't been much of a chance for that until now. So I figured I'd start with a little bit of ancient history and move onto abilities." Fayore's hand shot straight up into the air, almost hitting Keira.

"What?" Dante barked. Honestly! He hadn't even begun the lesson yet.

"Do I have to leave the room, Uncle Dante?" he asked, letting his hand drop.

"No," Keira said before Dante could yell. "You might need to know this when we have to come up with an intelligent plan." Kristen snorted.

"Besides," Chrysis added, "_despite_ what Dante believes, you aren't going to betray us."

"Anyway," growled Dante, "way back before the covenants were founded, before there were even enough vampyrs to make one covenant, Cain the Creator –"

"Cain?" Fayore hissed in disbelief. "Cain the _Creator?_ Cain was a _murderer!_ He killed his brother Abel! The _real_ Creator punished him and brought Abel back as a wolf. But he was so upset as a wolf, that the real Creator made him able to be a human at will, as long as he was a wolf-abomination for the three nights of the full moon." Fayore was genuinely angry at Dante. He looked ready to tear out his throat or something. Note to self, Kristen thought, things aren't always what they seem.

"Thank you, Fayore," she said politely. "That you for telling us the full story. What Dante meant was that Cain was the first vampyr. Father Nolatari told me that and he also told me he did kill his brother. We just didn't know what became of Abel afterward," explained Kristen slowly. Fayore relaxed in Keira's arms. "Now can Dante continue?" The wyrwolf nodded once. "Without you getting mad again?" He hesitated, then nodded carefully.

"Good. So Cain gathered all his children together one night and said to them that they must have a time to visit and discuss potential problems. He said they could not do that unless everyone was present. His first sireling, Mariana, suggested one day every lunar cycle to meet – the new moon, so that when they were at their most vulnerable, the wyrwolves would be as well." For clarification, Dante added, "Vampyrs and wyrwolves lived in peace then, but they still weren't fond of each other. They avoided each other as much as they could because both Cain and Abel had had enough killing to last them more than a lifetime. Only after Cain disappeared did any fighting start up. But that's another story for another time."

"So why'd you bring it up?" Keira demanded while Mike pattered away at the keyboard, no doubt typing up the information to compile later. _Maybe he'll publish a book on vampires like Father Nolatari did_, Kristen giggled in her mind.

"Because we can do the same thing at least once a week. It'll make it easier for me to teach you and for us to add up the money we have for supplies and that sort of thing."

"Makes sense . . ." Mike murmured, though as detached as he looked and sounded, Kristen wasn't entirely certain what he was referring to.

"Right, so, on to the lesson!" Fayore cried, as if wrapping up a pre-battle pep talk. Crickets could be heard as everyone stared at him blankly.

"Anyway," Dante continued, "vampyrs are kind of like wyrwolves, but more versatile. Vampyrs can transform into almost any animal. They can only transform into one and that one reflects their personality. But vampyrs can't just transform like wyrwolves, though. Something stressful and usually traumatic triggers it. For me, it was losing Rose." Dante stared at the floor for a few long, silent moments.

"So what did you become?" asked Kristen softly. _A bear?_ she added in her head.

"I spent three days as a panther after I got back to Cerentia wondering what on Azagarith I did wrong. Anyway, this sometimes never happens to a vampyr. Also, while in their transformed state, sunlight can't affect them. There's only one way to tell the different between a transformed vampyr and a regular animal. Normal animals of different species can't understand each other, but vampyrs can understand other vampyrs, regardless of the language they speak in their untransformed state –"

Fayore gasped. "There are other _languages?_"

Dante sighed. "Yes. What we speak is officially Jiot, but most people call it Trade because that's what it was created for. All vampyrs learn to write Jiot in the first fifty years of their life. But they use a different alphabet. We –"

"Al-fuh-bet?" Fayore echoed.

"Alphabet. A-L-P-H-A-B-E-T. It's the letters of a language, how they're written," explained Kristen.

"We don't have a name for our alphabet, but it's really quite simple once you learn the basics, and even the basics are easy. It shouldn't take long to learn how to write it, and then numbers will come easily after that."

"Can you teach Fayore as well?" question Chrysis. "There may be a time when we have to make up a plan right under the noses of wyrwolves and he won't be able to help us if he can't understand."

"Hmmm . . ." Kristen bet Dante was thinking of a way to get out of teaching the boy. She wouldn't want to bet against it, because she knew she'd lose. Eventually he must have decided that is was not worth the fight, because he agreed.

"Okay! So when do we start?" Fayore excitedly asked, leaning so far forward in Keira's lap that he almost fell out.

"Umm . . . Right now, if we have paper and pencils," Dante said.

"What are pen-sills?"

"Something to write with," answered Kristen.

"We do have enough paper and pencils," Chrysis told the older vampyr. She gestured toward Mike's laptop bag. "Mike has plenty he'd be willing to share, I'm sure."

Mike glanced up at his name, but looked at Dante instead. "Actually," he mumbled, "We have more important matters at hand." Kristen held her breath as War slithered up and around her ear. "It seems that the wyrwolves have noticed out disappearance." Keira gasped and gaped at Mike, shocked. Dante's fingers twitched and Chrysis looked grim. Wondering if Mike had learned anything new since she had looked at his laptop, Kristen waited for the chubby vampyr to continue, but it was the wyrwolf who spoke first.

"What's the good news?" he demanded to know. "You'd'uv sounded way worried if it had been all bad, right? Right?"

"Yeah . . . Right . . ." Mike sighed, rubbing his temples. "They sent out a bulletin telling everyone in the Prince's army to begin searching for us immediately. That was a few days ago. The good news is that they were told they are only three or so of us and they think we left later than we did. Also, they don't know we have Fayore with us. But they'll definitely be tightening up security, so we'll have to get more creative and _way_ less conspicuous."

"Ssssee Krissten?" War hissed in her ear. "It'sss not ssso ssscary anymore, iz it?" Kristen nodded.

"You knew about this before?" Dante growled, thinking she was agreeing with Mike instead of War.

"Uhhh, yeah. Earlier today I saw that bulletin on Mike's screen."

"Its still here," Mike interjected. "I've been trying to remove it since Fayore got out of his bath."

"Geez . . . I'm sorry."

Mike laughed hollowly, as though he had had little sleep and a terrible excess of stress over the past week or so. "It's alright. It's been asking me for a password so I can navigate away from the page."

"Wasn't it asking you for a password back in the forest?" Dante asked.

"Yes, and it's not the same one. I tried that first."

"Try monkey banana four," Fayore suggested. "Four the number an' have it all one word."

"Ummm . . ."

"I overheard Sam askin' Willow why the Prince's Officers were so obsessed with monkeys an' the number four an' bananas an' stuff . . . What're monkeys?" Fayore tipped his head to the side and scratched his nose, awaiting the explanation.

"Well, they're like very hairy, unintelligent humans and they're smaller. The definition is: any mammal of the order Primates, including the guenons, macaques, langurs, and capuchins, but excluding humans, the anthropoid apes, and, usually, the tarsier and prosimians."

"Uhhh . . ."

"Don't worry about it," Mike said.

"Okay. Did ya try it anyway?"

"Not yet," answered Mike. He hit twelve keys in rapid succession and paused.

"Four, the number," Fayore prompted. One key . . .

"YES!" Mike hollered, leaped up and nearly dropping his laptop.

"Really? That actually worked?" Dante was utterly shocked. Mike just nodded and sat back down, focusing on the laptop again.

"Introdussse me," War whispered. "It will be better if they know I'm here." Kristen nodded again.

"What's wrong with you now?" Dante snapped.

"I was responding to War."

"Uh oh. Here comes the battle cry," muttered Keira.

"War is the snake that found me back in the forest. I haven't talked to him until today, though." War twisted so that his tongue tickled her ear.

"War iz jusssst a nickname," he hissed. "I don't want them to get the wrong idea of me."

"War is his nickname. His full name is Sewaraté."

"What a mouthful," exclaimed Fayore. "I prefer War too."

"Yeah, so . . ." Kristen started awkwardly.

"I can help get information during the day," whispered War, "and I'm very perceptive. Tell them I can be of use."

"He says he can be useful. Like he can get information during the day and he can notice stuff we may not."

"Right," Dante replied. "Anyway, speaking of war, I probably ought to tell you all about the Dark Wars."

"I know all about 'em, Uncle Dante!" Fayore announced excitedly. "I love hearin' about 'em, though, 'specially the first one," he continued wistfully. He hugged Keira again and yawned.

"Well, Fayore, why don't you listen to Dante tell the rest of us about the first war and then you go to sleep?" Kristen suggested.

"And then we'll all go to sleep," Chrysis said. "We can practice writing tomorrow."

"Alright, so the Dark Wars started only a few hundred years after the last war on Azagarith during a time of really uneasy peace. It started because these two people were dumb enough to fall in love and then get caught. They –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Uncle Dante! That's _not_ how it goes!" the wyrwolf interrupted. "This vampyr man and this wyrwolf girl met up in a human village and they instantly fell in love, 'cause, y'know, it was meant to be an' all an' they dated fer a while 'fore they both decided to tell the other one what they were –"

"Who's telling the story here?" Dante snapped.

"You," Fayore grudgingly answered.

"That's right, now quit interrupting. You've heard all this before, so nobody can get onto me for kicking you out. Where was I? Oh yes. They both thought the other was a human, though it must have been obvious they weren't. So they decided to show the other what they really were on the same night. They freaked out, but since they were so stupidly 'in love' with each other, they stayed together. And then they got married –"

"An' it was beautiful!"

"Shut up, you. They got married and lived on the edge of some human town where they wouldn't be found out, except that they were."

"Uncle Dante! Uncle Dante! You forgot to tell them the most important part! Elli was Prince Nefer's only child!"

"Right. The wyrwolf prince at the time was Nefer D'Paul and he only had one child before his wife –"

"Mate!"

"– died. Elli, the idiot wyrwolf that fell in love with the vampyr guy, was his only kid. The vampyr was Philip Dark, who had been of no consequence before he started the wars."

"Were the Dark Wars named after him?" Kristen asked. Dante nodded and continued.

"They were found because the title Prince was supposed to go to Elli because she had been the most fit for the job. Prince isn't an inherited position, though, but it really did tend to run in a family. Anyway, the Prince's Officers I think they were called then were sent out to search for her. They found where she lived with Philip, though he was out for some reason and she was in the town at the market. So they burned the house to the ground and killed their animals and destroyed their plants. Then they waited for Elli to return. Philip must have seen them there and left. When Elli showed up, the officers nabbed her and took her back to the wyrwolf capitol. Vampyr records of what happened there are a little fuzzy, but we do know that when Elli was asked why she left, she told them she was married to a vampyr named Philip Dark and she wasn't ever going to leave him." At this point Fayore sighed dreamily. Keira shot him a 'you-are-so-incredibly-weird-it-is-not-even-funny' stare.

"You're such a romantic," she informed him.

"Yeah," Fayore replied in the same tone he sighed in.

"So the wyrwolves went to the vampyrs," Dante pressed on irately, "and demanded that they be allowed to kill 'this Philip Dark.' Of course the vampyrs refused. Why would they let wyrwolves kill one of their own? Besides, they told the wyrwolves tat Philip had disappeared a year or so back and they had no idea where he was. They wyrwolves left enraged. Not long after, when Elli refused to put Philip out of her mind, Nefer had her killed.

"Philip assaulted the wyrwolf capitol, obviously trying to 'free' Elli. He got pretty far, actually. He got far enough to get to the throne room in the main castle to see Elli's body impaled on a silver spike. After that he gave up and let himself be killed. The wyrwolves had a big celebration and the vampyrs found out about it. Needless to say, they were really mad and attacked. Aaaand then the war actually began and they fought for a really long time. Toward the end of it, the wyrwolves raided human villages so much that they became fed up with it, but most were too scared to do anything. This group of radicals decided to go assassinate who they thought was the reason they were being raided – Nefer. Turns out it actually wasn't him, but one of the highest ranking families, the Malaks. They did manage to succeed in killing Nefer, but they all died in the process.

"So, basically, no one really won that war, but the wyrwolves definitely lost it. The death of Nefer and Elli created a power vacuum –"

"What's that?" Fayore questioned sleepily.

"A power vacuum is made when the leader of a country or a country itself is eradicated. That creates a need to fill that gap, and so people or other countries struggle and often fight to fill it," Mike explained.

"Oh . . . G'night, guys," Fayore mumbled, curling into a tight ball in Keira's lap.

"Good night, Fayore," Chrysis said. "So what happened after that?"

"The vampyr leaders came down hard on their subjects. All of the vampyrs of little importance were enslaved. They weren't treated badly, but they had very few rights. The wyrwolves, of course, had to deal with that power vacuum. The main families involved were the Malaks, the Ysobils, the Nuiorus, the Tosiods, and the Sibali. Out of those, only the Malaks and the Tosiods continued the raids on the humans. There were a few minor skirmishes – nothing that hadn't been happening before the previous war started."

"I'm related to the Malaks," Fayore yawned. "They won . . ."

"Aren't you supposed to be going to sleep?" Dante practically growled at the boy. Fayore nodded and curled tighter around Keira. "Anyway, a lot of humans wanted to just stop right their and let their militia disappear. However, the son of the radical's leader, Erasmus Ries, talked them into keeping it up. After several devastating raids, Erasmus and a few others decided that they should find allies. Their reasoning was that if the conflict between the vampyrs and wyrwolves was affecting them, it was probably affecting other peoples, too. They found volunteers and then split into two groups. One to the dragyns and one to the myrfolk. Tially, Erasmus' sister, led the group to the myrfolk. The myrfolk weren't too happy to see the humans, but they didn't attack them either. After Tially explained why they were there, several of the myrfolk tried to throw them out. However, the leader, Sibali, let them stay while he and his council discussed the proposal. They agreed to help, but they couldn't help with supplies or anything. Tially promised to update them on the dragyns' response. Meanwhile, the dragyns refused to fight with the humans, but did offer their dead to them. Rykeir, Erasmus' best friend, set his group to work crafting armor from the hide of the dead dragyns. From the bones they made weapons and the meat they ate. What little blood that was left was used for attack potions or poison."

"Attack potions?" Mike echoed.

"Yeah, weird. Basically, dragyn's blood by itself is extremely corrosive. One drop could eat through an average human arm."

"Ew," Kristen commented. "So the dragyns are all dead?"

"Yeah, they're all dead. Can I continue?"

"No," she teased.

"Shut up. I'm ignoring you."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"I thought you were ignoring me." Dante rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Just shut up."

"Fine."

Dante growled and slammed a pillow in his face. Chrysis suggested mildly, "Maybe, Kristen, you should stop messing around. I'd kinda like to go to sleep before dawn, you know?"

"Okay, Chrysis, since you asked so nicely."

"Are you done?" Dante demanded. Kristen didn't say anything. "Good. Anyway, Rykeir gets word to Erasmus and Tially. Erasmus sends more people to make supplies and ship them back. A few months and several raids later, the humans finally had enough stuff to equip their army. They set out, led by Erasmus, and attacked the wyrwolves that continued to raid the villages. For a year, they continued to beat the wyrwolves and only lost a few battles. Then the raiding stopped. Erasmus attributed it to the wyrwolves focusing their attacks on the vampyrs. Many of the humans wanted to continue attacking the wyrwolves, but Erasmus talked them out of it. He said it would drop them down to their level and that he wouldn't stand for that.

"Because the humans refrained from attacking the wyrwolves, the wyrwolves won the war. They gained several useful vampyr slaves and called it a truce. Not long after the war, the vampyrs abolished slavery, hoping that would force the wyrwolves to return their slaves. They didn't. During the peacetime, a few morons began trying to summon phantyms. Now they'll be called ghosts, but you get the point. Phantyms are basically what you think of as ghosts, but more powerful. And magical."

"Magical? Never that I'd hear you using that word," interrupted Kristen. Dante glared at her.

"Shut up, would you?" Dante snapped at her. Kristen assumed a mock-hurt face and when Dante glared harder at her, she busted out laughed.

"It's so hard to take you seriously when you say stuff like magical!"

"Kristen!" Mike hissed.

"I mean, really, magic doesn't even exist," Kristen continued just as loudly, swiftly covering her mistake. "I bet this whole vampire thing is a hoax to keep us out of the Prince's way and under his control."

"Kristen –" Mike reprimanded loudly.

"I certainly don't blame him," she said a bit quieter. "It makes perfect sense to me, if the vampire panic really is a hoax the Prince is using. I'd do the same thing."

"Look, you guys," Dante almost shouted over her, "I'm just telling you what I heard was going on –" A rap at the door stopped Dante mid-sentence. Carefully and with a touch of fear, he stood and opened the door a crack. "Yes?" he asked in a low tone.

"J-Jenny sent me ta ask if ya'd like ta help her make you and yer friend's clothes, s-since yer new an' all." a female voce stuttered. Kristen strained to place it, but she could not. "I d-don't want to-to interrupt anything –"

"No, it's fine," cut off Dante. "I'll be happy to help. You'll have to remind me how to sew properly again, though. It's been years since I had to mend my own clothes, now my sister can do better than I can."

"The tall one?" Try as she might, she still couldn't place that voice. Obviously it was one of Jenny's female apprentices, but she couldn't tell which one. It wasn't Rae – Rae would have already flung her arms around Dante and made things totally awkward.

"Yeah, that's her," Dante half laughed. "I'd send her in my place, but she's a better cook than the rest of us, so she'll try to help here. Personally, I prefer her having and adult to watch over her, so nothing happens . . ."

"I get it. I used ta have an older brother – he felt the same way." Mike leaned over and poked Kristen gently in the side.

"It's Viktoria, the girl that was measuring me?" he whispered. Kristen made an 'O' shape with her mouth and nodded to show she understood. He nodded back and sat up straight again.

"What happened to him?" Dante asked over Mike.

"Can I tell ya another time?" Viktoria asked, her voice relatively steady. "It's already late, so I should prolly get back to the room my father usually uses when he can't get back home 'fore curfew." Kristen saw Dante nod. He let her go and then shut the door quietly and turned back to the group.

"Anyway," Dante said, glaring at Kristen as if it was her fault that the seamstress-to-be had interrupted. "A few humans who discovered phantyms existed began trying to summon them in between the second and third war, which continued through the third war and the summoning wasn't perfected until a little bit afterwards. The third war, probably most devastating to the moral of the human army, began when Erasmus' second closest friend and best military leader, Corin Harp, betrayed him and switched to the wyrwolves side."

"Harp? My grandmother was a Harp, if I remember correctly," Mike mumbled, absent-mindedly drumming away at the keyboard. Dante stormed right over him, determined not to be interrupted yet again.

"Corin, surprisingly, had a somewhat noble reason for switching sides. His younger sister had been turned into a wyrwolf before the first war and had spent most of her life as such. After she married a high-ranking wyrwolf, she found out her brother was a general in the human army and sent word to him as soon as she could, which was during the peace after the second war. Well, Corin's sister, Jhaot, managed to convince him that if he continued fighting with the human army, they would eventually have to fight each other, which was a complete lie because at the time she was just barely pregnant and _no one_ sent a pregnant woman into battle if they could possibly help it. But Corin didn't know she was with child, so he switched sides and helped them develop a battle plan to utterly devastate the humans and their resources.

"Corin disguised a large group of wyrwolves as humans and lead them to the heart of the dragyn homeland where they attacked them in the hottest part of the day, while they napped. It was a massacre, even though most of the wyrwolf party died as well. Thinking that they really were humans, having been befuddled by sleep, the dragyns destroyed several human villages and pillaged several more. They disappeared completely soon after. To this day, not a single person knows where the dragyns hid themselves.

"Upon hearing the news from one sly, pregnant wyrwolf, the myrfolk pulled their support of the humans immediately. However, they did not ally themselves with the wyrwolves either, as Jhaot had anticipated. Not long later, the myrfolk were caught up in their own old struggle against the Dolphin Covenant, so I suppose it didn't really matter that they weren't helping the humans – they couldn't while fighting their own separate war.

"This all left the humans scared, vulnerable, and without a way to pull themselves back together again and the wyrwolves seized the opportunity with all their might, coming close to wiping out the human population. Erasmus sent Tially to negotiate with the vampyrs for another alliance. The humans would help the vampyrs get their slaves back, if the vampyrs would help the humans fight back against the wyrwolves. Naturally, they accepted with little hesitation. The next part I don't quite remember, because I was exhausted and starving that day, but I'll tell you as much as I know.

"The humans and vampyrs amassed a fair sized army using as much of the left over dragyn supplies as they could, and attacked the wyrwolf capitol head on. I think it was Elesin, even then. Anyway, while the fighting was going on, a very select, very small group comprised of both humans and vampyrs freed the slaves there. The moment the signal was given that the slaves were safely out of the capitol, the humans retreated. Most of the wyrwolves thought they were fleeing in fear and they grew overconfident, as Erasmus expected. The vampyrs beat them easily as the human army returned as a shocking tactic. After that battle, the humans kind of dropped out of the war because the wyrwolves seemed to forget about them completely. They had no reason to fight any more, and it appeared the vampyrs didn't need their help either.

"The freed slaves provided much information to the vampyrs and so they were able to crush the wyrwolves swiftly and with little effort. In the treaty, the vampyrs were promised five years of high tribute from the wyrwolves that would not be raised at all, _all_ the slaves back, and a small tract of woodland bordering with the humans. Grudgingly, and realizing they were in no position to argue, the wyrwolves accepted the terms.

"The fourth war started after the wyrwolves captured the morons summoning phantyms a couple of years after they no longer had to pay tribute to the vampyrs. They used the phantyms to frighten the vampyrs into running to them for help. It worked and yet didn't. It terrified the vampyrs, but instead of running to their hated enemies like idiots, they begged their former allies for help. The humans absolutely refused to assist them. They had no intention of being pulled into another one of the vampyrs and wyrwolves conflicts and were still attempting to rebuild their own society, country, and lives. However, Erasmus' daughter, Claudia Marmoski, helped the vampyrs find the gryphons. Gryphons were distant cousins to dragyns. Not nearly as large or as brutishly powerful, the gryphons were fast fliers, warm-blooded, and had a certain magic of their own, including revealing and dispelling the magics of other supernatural creatures. The gryphons, rightfully scared of the phantyms and more knowledgeable of phantyms and their abilities than any other group agreed to assist the vampyrs.

"As such, the vampyrs and wyrwolves were again almost evenly matched. The wyrwolves did have a slight advantage, though –"

"Hang on," Mike interjected. "Claudia Marmoski was Erasmus Ries' daughter? That makes no sense."

"Back then, women kept the surname of their mother and sons of their father," explained Dante, surprisingly patiently.

"Oh. Okay, continue. Just wanted to verify that."

"Right, anyway, I'm really tired, so I'm going to make this quick. The phantyms turned on the wyrwolves and began indiscriminately attacking anyone and everyone within range, even the humans who were supposed to be out of the war. Erasmus died of illness sometime between when his daughter left to help the vampyrs and eventually marry one and when the phantyms went berserk. Most of the human population had no idea what phantyms were and called them 'ghosts' or 'demons' and tried all sorts of idiotic means of protecting themselves, some of which worked. Being driven mad by the phantyms and upset by the loss of their leader, the humans destroyed every reference to the Dark Wars they possibly could. Some humans, such as Tially and her family and Rykeir and his, salvaged what little they could and hid them in safe houses like the church back in Cerentia.

"The wyrwolves and vampyrs and gryphons teamed up and eventually sent the phantyms back to their hell world where they belong, good riddance," Dante said as he superstitiously made a short series of hand motions, rather like what Kristen had learned to use when communicating with the old and hard of hearing back home. She sighed. She even missed the cranky, old, smelly people that she hated to be around back then. What was wrong with her?

"What does that sign mean?" Chrysis asked sleepily.

"It's basically short for 'Creator protect us.' Apparently it was a symbol that was believed to bring good luck or enhance defenses when used with certain herb mixes and concoctions." Dante shrugged. "Now we just use them out of habit, rather than for any real reason."

"Right, well, you said you'd make this quick," Keira yawned, readjusting Fayore in her lap. "What about the last two wars?"

"Tomorrow night," yawned Dante back. "I'm really tired."

"Aren't we all?" Keira said. "Alright, but it better not take as long as it did tonight." She glared at Kristen. "No more interruptions, except to clarify stuff, okay?" Kristen nodded. She still couldn't get over Dante attributing anything to 'magic.' As far as she was concerned, magic existed only in the demented physical and mental abilities of the species or race. "I'm sleeping in here. I'd rather not move Fayore right now – he's still twitching." Dante nodded and began to leave.

"I'll stay, too," Chrysis piped up. The other vampyrs gave her a funny look, but she was already fast asleep on the cot, her head still hanging off. Mike smiled and moved her so all of her was on the cot and followed Dante out. Kristen looked back at Keira, laying down carefully so as to not wake up the boy, and shook her head in wonder. _Why does she care about him so much? Does she remind her of herself at that age? A boy she knew from home?_ It was a mystery she wouldn't get the answer to until Keira revealed it herself, and she knew it. But still . . . Kristen stalked out of the room and followed the other two to the second room.

_**A.N. 2 -** Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


	12. Busy

**__****A.N. -** _This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review._

**Busy**

Kristen woke earlier than she had been for the past few nights. Nightmares of battles with wyrwolves – her interpretations of the Dark Wars, her own battle, and the not-quite fight over Rose – haunted what might have otherwise been a restful slumber. War tickled her nose with his tongue. Kristen blearily looked at him through one cracked eye. He hissed in it. She sat up, barely catching the little snake with an open hand.

"It'ssssss okay. No wyrwolves for kilometerz. I promissse," War assured her.

"Good. Anything else I ought to know?"

"Well, the boy iz at the Sssstevenzez and none of the otherz are awake," replied War.

"Sounds great." Kristen wrinkled her nose and blinked at War. "You know, I just now thought about how weird it is that I can understand you. A little over a month ago, I wasn't even a v–"

"Shush! Don't sssay the namez," the snake instructed. "Ssssomeone may hear you." Kristen nodded and then continued.

"A little over a month ago, I wasn't even the way I am now. This is soooo weird."

"It iz ssstrange, I mussst admit," he agreed. "But it _iz_ nissssse. Normally, I try to avoid legged folk."

"Is that what you call us?" Kristen laughed as War curled around her finger and wrapped around her wrist.

"Ssssometimez. There are worssse things I have called creatures like you." Kristen laughed.

"Don't tell me. I don't want leg_less_ folk thinking I know all their secrets." This time War chuckled along with her. Then Kristen grew somber. "I kind of wish I had said goodbye to my family. Or . . . _something_ . . ." She paused for a few minutes, staring into space while she replayed / leaving her house the last time over and over. "I mean, I could have been a little nicer, at least to Fred in that last week . . . What if something happens to me? It's not like they know where I am. I may never see any of them again. I may never see them again anyway . . . I'm always rushing into things, aren't I?" War nodded.

"It'ssss endearing sssomtimez. In thisss cassse, I think it waz important."

"Why?"

"Think," War instructed the vampyr. "If you had told your family, they would have ssstopped you, wouldn't they?"

Kristen nodded. "Yeah. Makes me wonder why Holly let Mike and Chrysis go."

"Maybe it waz because they have each other. You had no one your parentsss knew," the snake explained.

"Good point. But still . . . I didn't even _think _of telling anyone goodbye or even that I loved them . . ." They were silent for only a few minutes before Mike woke up. He rolled over and walked on his knees to Kristen.

"Fayore at the Stevens'?" he groggily asked. Kristen nodded and Mike glanced at War. "Snakes creep me out," he informed them.

"I'm sssorry. Why don't I just transform into a legged one like you?" replied War humorously. Kristen translated for Mike and, after a moment, jerked her head back to War in shock.

"You can actually do that?"

"No." Kristen's face fell. "But it would be rather amuzing, wouldn't it?" Both Mike and Kristen agreed once Kristen relayed the comment.

"You should sneak into the kitchen and start making dinner, before Willow catches you," Mike suggested.

Kristen nodded, standing up. "You should wake up Keira. Maybe she can sneak out through the shade to the supply shop."

"Good idea. We'll send Dante out with her so he can go to the tailor's."

"Alright then. I wake up Dante." Mike scurried out of the room, laptop under his arm. It took Kristen a moment to realize that he had slept with it like that. Strange, Kristen thought. He kept it in the bag when we were in the woods. Why would he keep it closer now? Kristen walked over to the bed, catching her foot on the post, and flopped over onto Dante. He jumped, startled out of sleep. Kristen jumped up and yelled at him, hastily covering her clumsy fall. "Get your lazy butt out of bed and go get a job!"

"Geez, you sound like my mom," Dante grumbled back, rolling over. He paused. "I miss her." Kristen sat down beside him, relieved he didn't catch or wasn't going to mention that she'd fallen awkwardly onto his back.

"Me too."

Dante looked up at her funny. "You weren't even_ alive_ when my mom died."

Kristen laughed. "_My_ mom, silly. Not yours. I don't care about _your_ mom."

"Oh, thanks," Dante said sarcastically, sitting up. "That really makes me feel better." He stood and picked up the clothes he had left out the night before,

"It better," joked Kristen, "You're going to go out with Keira – she'll go to the supply shop and you'll go to Jenny's." Dante groaned. "Oh, it won't be that bad. Jenny won't let Rae kiss you or anything." Dante groaned some more. "And besides," Kristen said in a tone of finality, "you already agreed to go work for them. Remember?"

"I'm going to change before you make my day any worse," Dante informed her, exiting the room. Kristen followed him out, puzzled. _When did I get to be in charge?_ she asked herself. _It's not like I'm good at it or a natural leader or anything._

Mike nearly ran into her. "Chrysis isn't here," he said. Kristen looked baffled at him.

"Maybe she got up and left while we were talking?" Kristen suggested, then dropped her voice, "War said no one was awake when I got up, except Fayore who had already left."

"Maybe," Mike said worriedly. "He might have made a mistake."

"Chrysis is always disappearing – she'll be alright. You'll see." Mike nodded and Kristen felt horrible. What if she wasn't right? What if something awful happened to her just because she said that? Murphy's Law tended to work on her, and a lot.

"Go ssssneak into the kitchen," War hissed in her ear, having hidden himself in her massive hair. Kristen jumped. She had no idea War was on her – she hadn't even noticed. She nodded, and almost ran down the stairs. Scanning the tavern-room of the inn, she noticed both Willow and Sam were on the other side of the room from the entrance to the kitchen. Kristen smiled. _Perfect._ She snuck along the wall, past the other patronages, behind the counter. Slipping into the slightly messy kitchen, the tall vampyr breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught by the crazed inn owner, although his boyfriend probably would have let her slide, maybe even helped her. She glanced around for a list of foods to make and found one tacked to the wall to the right of the door, entering. _Great. Now to find the ingredients . . ._

Keira and Dante stepped cautiously out of the inn, careful to keep all parts of themselves in the shade. They were silent, like shadows, as they walked single file along the buildings until a little blonde girl asked them why they didn't step out and enjoy the warm sun.

"It hurts our eyes," was Dante's reply. It was true: their eyes watered just from looking at the bright cobblestone street.

"How come?" the girl asked innocently. Dante could feel his skin heating rapidly while they stood in one place.

Keira answered. "We're from the Savage Forest. It's easier and safer to hunt in the dark, so we don't come out during the day much."

"Oh . . ."

"Not to mention the fact that it is so much cooler at night," added Dante.

"What about _vampires?_" the little girl questioned, squeaking with fright. "They can only come out at night-time!"

"Exactly," Keira said. "It's a lot easier to protect yourself when you're awake."

"But vampires can only bite the willing," she argued. Keira and Dante glanced at each other.

"Who told you that?" he asked her. This might prove detrimental.

"The officer that came here a few summers ago."

"Well, it's not true," stated Dante.

"They can only _sire_ the willing," Keira elaborated, seeing that the girl eagerly wanted more correct information.

"Oh. Okay! How do you know that?"

"There are tons of strange creatures in the Savage Wood," Dante told her. "We've learned everything we ca to survive. Knowledge is power, child."

"What kinds of strange creatures?"

"All sorts," Keira answered. "Vampires, werewolves, the occasional phantom –" The girl gasped. "Phantoms aren't too dangerous if they're alone and it's day time."

"Are phantoms like . . . like _ghosts?_"

"Yes, very much so. But phantoms are sly and tricky like foxes, so it's hard to tell the difference. Luckily there aren't very many of them and they never seem to leave the forest." The girl breathed a sigh of relief.

"What about werewolves? I heard that the Prince has some in his army."

"Well, the ones that aren't in his army aren't necessarily trustworthy," Keira explained. "Anyway, we should be going now."

"Oh, okay. See ya later!" the girl said, bouncing away with a wave.

"I remember when I was carefree like that," Keira said wistfully, continuing toward their last common point of travel.

"Me too. And now I feel old."

"No kidding. This is where I leave you. Good luck, Dante. Try not to suffocate from Rae and her kisses."

"Shut up." Keira laughed. "Try to get a job, Keira."

"No problem. I was going to do that anyway." Dante glared at her as she walked away, artfully side-stepping into the next major shaded area on her route. Dante kept going straight and soon caught sight of Tailor Jenny's building.

Dante slipped into Tailor Jenny's, the bell softly chiming as the door opened and closed. The main room was surprisingly empty. Without all the people, the place felt rather spacious. It was a relief to him, to not immediately be greeted with a great ruckus of noise and confusion. He almost smiled, but a young lady with blonde-streaked hair stepped out from behind the curtain to the back room. She beamed at him and Dante groaned inwardly. "Jenny! It's my favorite boy again! Ya know, that black haired cutie from the Savage Wood?" This time Dante groaned aloud and smacked his palm to his forehead. "What're ya here fer?" Rae questioned Dante pointedly. "Come ta visit me?"

"Ah, no," replied Dante. _Why would I want to visit _you?_ You're a total creep._ "Viktoria –"

"Vikky."

"_Vikky_ mentioned that Jenny could use some help –" Rae squealed and Dante flinched. She ran over to him and gripped his wrist, dragging him into the back room.

"JennyJennyJenny!" yelped Rae. "Guess what? Guess what? He's gonna be helpin' us!" Dante jerked his arm out of her hand and looked around. The place was what could only be described as an organized mess. Lining two of the walls, the one the doorway was on and the opposite one, were basically counters with hanging cabinets above them. The walls not covered with counter and cabinet were taken up with rolls and rolls of different cloths. The aaisle had more mannequins in half-completed outfits than chairs for the tailors and each chair was accompanied by a mess of cloth, parchment, blades, needles, thread, measuring tape, and chalk. It was so . . . quiet. It was shocking, really. But what had he been expecting? Tons of screaming and shouting and laughing that that curtain somehow magically kept in the room?

"Wonderful," Jenny mumbled, carefully drawing out the outline for the cloth for what looked like, from Dante's angle, one of the corsets. "Get 'im a chair from the front room and sit 'im down someplace. He'll start with one of his own tunics." Rae beamed and nodded, rushing to comply. "Jessica?" The girl looked up, pausing. "You'll teach him how, since you've been here the longest."

Jess nodded. "Yes'm." Rae came back in with a chair, moving a mannequin out of the way so she could set it down to Dante's left at a mostly clear space of counter, brushing up against him on her way to do so. Dante winced.

"You'll find everything you need in the cabinets –"

"Jessica's teaching 'im, Rachel." Rae turned to the woman, face falling. "She's been here longer than you –"

"By two months!"

"An' I want th'both of ya ta be able ta focus," Jenny continued sternly. "You'll drive 'im batty with yer antics an' ya won't get anythin' done 'cause ya wouldn't leave 'im alone." Rae nodded, finding that acceptable, if maddening. She went back to her chair and quietly returned to work. Another shocker. Jess stood and walked over to Dante.

"This'll be yer chair while ya work here," she said. "Don't sit in anyone else's chair an' don't use anyone else's things, okay? We all have our own stuff ta use an' I'm sure we have some spare stuff for ya, so don't worry. Yeh'll be usin' the deep blue cloth at first. Jenny wants us ta practice decoratin' clothes, so when she starts talkin' about embroidery, don't worry about it. Yeh'll be sewin' on yer own trim, though. But worry 'bout that later – find yerself a basic tunic pattern ya like in that cupboard over there – " Jess instructed, pointing at a cabinet close to the corner along 'his' wall, "and get yerself that deep blue fabric from Pat. Jus' follow the pattern exactly and yeh'll do jus' fine. Knives're in the cupboard above Rae, needles an' thread'll be above Pat, an' measurin' tape'll be in the cupboard beside the patterns, awright?" Dante nodded at her. "Good, 'cause this'll be the first time I gotta make a corset on my own, and I'd rather not be interrupted." As Dante made his way to the pattern cabinet, Jess slipped on back to he chair and set to work. _Shouldn't be too hard,_ thought Dante. _Just follow the pattern._

Keira slipped into Smith's Supply Shop only a few minutes after she left Dante. The place felt incredibly empty. It probably did most of the time, now that she thought about it. Honestly, who would need supplies? Everyone in Darango had what they needed or could make it themselves. More than likely, the store only had and only needed one or two people to run it. Appling here would probably prove fruitless, but she knew it would still be a good idea to do so anyway. If only to get experience in the way job applications were handled in Darango.

She walked to the very back of the store, through the aisle stocked with preserved foods. Peaches, pears, apples, cranberries, strawberries, grapes, oranges, and fruits Keira had never seen before stared at her from inside their glass containers. Later, jerky stuck out from the shelves, reaching for her – beef, turkey, pig, deer, unidentifiable meat. It was disconcerting being in there alone, or seemingly alone. Too quiet. Keira had grown far too accustomed to the constant noise and chatter of companions over the past weeks.

At the end of the aisle, Keira looked left and saw nothing but more aisles, shelves, and the end of the aisle perpendicular to the others. To the right, Keira saw more shelves, more aisles, and at the very end a counter rather than another wall of shelves. Keira walked toward it, careful to step lightly so her footsteps would not echo eerily throughout the store. Her fingers scraped along the sanded, dark wood of the counter, the same wood the shelves were made of, and Keira got the feeling that perhaps something really bad was about to happen.

The only thing that happened was a lanky, gangly looking young man with a sour look on his acne-covered face and longish dark blonde hair stepped into her view, scratching a poorly made broom on the ground. He glared at her. "Yes?" His voice was nasally, like the picturesque snobbish nerd.

"I was looking for a job?" Keira heard herself say.

"Look someplace else," the teen scoffed. "We're not hirin'."

"You're Mr. Smith?"

"Nope. That's m'father. I just run the shop while he's out. Is there somethin' else ya need?" Keira shook her head and began walking away briskly. "Try Gerald's Goods," he called after her. She nodded to show she understood and left. Quickly. _Maybe he wasn't a bitter, angry boy. Maybe he just looked like that,_ Keira thought as the bell chimed. _Or maybe he was just a creep._

Keira took the boy's advice. Gerald's Goods was only a block and a half down the street from the supply shop and half a block down another. It was certainly smaller than Smith's Supply Shop, but it looked a whole lot cheerier, with its yew wood floors and shelves and colorful walls. And there were actually people in it. Probably because it's designed like the grocery store back in Cerentia, Keira thought. She sighed, missing the place she had only spent a couple of years at. Someone placed their hand on her shoulder and she whipped around and almost hit the person in the face. It was a young man, maybe a year or so older than her, with a brilliant smile and golden red hair that obscured his eyebrows but not his bright blue-green eyes. His skin was flawless porcelain, transparent color over a light pink flush and he was just a few inches taller than her. The epitome of pretty.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" Keira snapped, knocking his hand away from her.

He looked hurt, as he hadn't known it was possible for someone to speak to him in such an angry tone of voice. "I – ya looked upset an' ya were sighin' so I figer'd ya could use some cheerin' up. I didn't mean ta make ya mad."

"Well, you did."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Can we start over? I'm Liam. It's a pleasure ta meet ya, miss," the boy, Liam, said, offering her hand to her.

"Keira," she replied stiffly, ignoring the gesture. "The pleasure's all yours."

"Well alright then. What're ya here for? Maybe I can help ya find it."

"Actually," Keira started in a more aloof manner than she had been speaking in, "I'm looking for a temporary job." Perhaps he could help her with that.

"Talk ta Jeanne," Liam told the vampyr. "She's at the front desk over there." He pointed off to the left behind Keira. "She's got real light blond hair, kinda like yers but without the streaks." Keira nodded, thanked him, and walked away quickly, rather like she had from the creepy boy in the last store. Jeanne was easy to spot – a tall, blonde loudmouth barking instructions at a bumbling new employee from behind a counter. Keira walked over to her and waited patiently for her to finish. Jeanne turned to her and leaned on one arm on the counter at her.

"What'll it be today, miss?"

"I was looking for a job, actually," Keira corrected in a slightly meek voice. Better that they think she was meek than have them find her too strong-willed and keep her from getting a job.

"Sorry, miss, but we've got all the workers we need here, an' we ain't likely ta fire anybody anytime soon. Try someplace else." Keira glanced over at the man failing to stack oranges properly in a large wooden crate. Jeanne caught the look. "That's Gerald's brother, Akin. He's been here fer years an' he's almost burnt down the whole town afore. I reckon if he's still here now, he'll still be here 'til he dies or we get new management." Keira nodded, thanked Jeanne for her time and left. Very, very quickly.

"Come back again soon!" Liam called after her. It was all she could do not to wince.

Sam winked at Kristen as he took a bowl of steaming soup from her. On the inside, she was laughing. It had been a few hours since she'd started cooking and Willow still hadn't noticed that she was in the kitchen. Sam helped, though, by taking care of whatever Willow wanted to do in the kitchen. She finally understood why someone of the kids in Cerentia skipped school and did all sorts of other bad things they weren't allowed to do – it gave her a kind of thrill going behind Willow's back like she was. Of course, Kristen knew she'd be caught eventually, but hopefully by the time she _was_ found out, Willow wouldn't care and it would be fun while it lasted.

"Who's that in the kitchen?" Kristen heard Willow holler. She cringed and looked for a hiding place, though one she could fit in would be near impossible to find, given her height. And hair. She heard Sam scuttling after Willow as the innkeeper stomped though the main room.

"Ah, it's no one, Willow, don't worry about it!"

"It's gotta be someone ya don't want me seein', Sam, other'ise ya'd tell me and _not_ try ta keep me outta the kitchen!" Willow's head poked into the kitchen door and his eyes locked onto Kristen. She could hardly describe the look on his face. "SAM!" he yelped. "Sam, what's that evil cleanin' witch from the Woods doin' in m'kitchen?"

"Willow, stop shoutin', I'm right behind you," murmured Sam soothingly.

"I said, what's she doin' in m'kitchen?"

"She's cookin'! Now will you _please_ lower your voice?" Willow looked away, pouting.

"Fine. How come ya let'er in?"

"Because she wanted ta help. An' if she'd been an awful cook, I'd'a kicked 'er out."

"The customers do seem ta like her food," Willow consented.

"So . . ." Kristen said, "can I keep working here?"

"I guess so. Make one wrong move, though, an' ya can't, kay?" Kristen nodded. "An I'll hafta pay ya less than I'm suppos' ta pay people, 'cause ya aren't from around here."

"Fair enough. Thank you, Willow."

"Get back ta work!" the innkeeper ordered, beginning to walk out of the room.

"Willow!" Sam exclaimed, skittering after him.

"What? She's gettin' paid fer me ta say stuff like that at 'er."

"Still . . ." Kristen laughed and went back to working on the meat pie some strange person ordered. At least it smelled good.

"Hey kid!" Fayore jumped and spun around, pulling his hand, which had an uncooked sausage link in it, away from his mouth. "What are you doing out of school?" a man asked. He was shorter than most of the men in Darango and had dark skin, rather like almonds. His nose was large and long and he had, by contrast, short cropped black hair and dark brown eyes. The man had on knee-high black leather boots, a black leather belt that was too long, a deep azure tunic and homespun black pants. He had a short black cape that only reached maybe a decimeter past his waist. On it, there were strange symbols in a matching blue on the back and sides. For a moment, Fayore didn't know what to say.

"What's skool-uhl?" the wyrwolf asked, backing away from him towards the Stevens'. This man didn't smell right, didn't smell safe. He looked at Fayore oddly.

"Where are you from?" the man demanded.

"The Savage Wood," answered Fayore nervously. He inched away faster.

"Stop!" The man reached into his cape pocket and pulled out a small off-white, yellowish thing that smelled strongly of a plant he had known back in the forest, a plant he had liked. It was just tickling on the edge of his memory . . .

"Garlic!" Fayore exclaimed excitedly. It was used as a seasoning in everything he was given to eat from the Clan and it was one of the few things he had actually liked from the forest.

"Eat it."

"All of it?" Fayore looked at it skeptically. Garlic had an even stronger taste than smell, and usually the cooks used one clover for a whole pot of soup that could feed half the Clan. The man merely nodded and Fayore made a face. "O-okay, then." Tentatively, Fayore took the garlic from him and bit into it like a very sour apple – with an expression that said nothing but 'yuck!' Somehow, Fayore managed to choke the whole thing down. The man seemed satisfied.

"Did you come with anyone else?" he asked. Fayore almost freaked out. _He's gonna kill Aunt Kristen an' Uncle Dante an' them. He might even kill_ Jeremy_!_

"I gotta get back ta help Mr. –"

"Did you come with anyone else?" the man asked again with a sharp, cruel edge in his voice. Fayore nodded, scared.

"How many?"

"With me?" The man shook his head. "Five."

"Is there anything odd about them?"

"Uh . . . ?" _What would he think is odd, uther than them bein' vampyrs an' all?_ "Well, they're all the same age, 'cause they're cousins –"

"Odd as in anything about them that seems . . . not human," the man interrupted. Fayore put on a mask of fear, which wasn't hard since he was already terrified.

"Like . . . _vampires?_" The man nodded curtly. Fayore began hyperventilating.

"Calm down," instructed the man. "If you fear for your life, arrangements can be made for you to be removed from the care of your family."

"I thought vampires couldn't leave the forest!" Fayore practically wailed, flinging himself around the man's thick waist against all his instinct to run away. "What if a nasty ol' vamp got ta 'em while I wasn't lookin'? What if one of 'em's trapped as a bloodsucker an' an' can't save 'emselves?" Fayore started bawling and sniffling, wiping his runny nose on the man's on the man's cape corner. "I had no idea we were in danger! If I had, I - I dunno. I'd uv told 'em it wasn't worth it."

"What?" the man questioned eagerly. "What wasn't worth it?"

"Warnin' Prince Zorthinos!" Fayore cried, squishing his face into the man's belly.

"Warning the Prince about what?"

"The vampire rebels," sniffed the boy quietly. "They're plannin' ta assassinate the Prince. We dunno how or when 'zactly, but they're gonna try real soon, we bet. They're sick uv him killin' all uv 'em."

"This is very serious. Tomorrow morning, you and your family will come with me and we will go directly to –" The man cut himself off, brow furrowed and after a moment he shook his head. "No, we may leave only after another Officer arrives to take my place."

"How long'll _that _take?" Fayore asked as he let go of the man and stepped back a couple paces. If it was going to take a while, Dante could finish teaching them to write and then they could plan right under the noses of the Prince and his Officers!

"It won't, boy. My laptop is broken and I haven't the training to fix it – I was trained for search-and-seizure, arrests, and other in-town assignments." Fayore's dark gray eyes brightened._ Uncle_ _Mike can trick 'im inta thinkin' we really_ do _wanna help the Prince! _

"My Uncle Mike's great with 'lectronics!" the boy exclaimed cheerily. "He's got a laptop all his own!" Several passers-by ducked their heads and walked with a quickness and a purpose in their step that hadn't been there before.

"Does he now?" Fayore's face fell into a frightful fixture. "Can you take me to see him?"

"I gotta get this back ta –"

"Can you take me to him?" Fayore cringed.

"I–I think so. But I really gotta get this back –" Fayore gestured to the sausage links.

"Fine. I will go with you, to make sure you don't . . . get distracted." All the way back to the Stevens', the little wyrwolf brainstormed places Mike would possibly be. He couldn't _not_ take the Officer to see Mike – he'd look like a traitor then and_ then_ they'd be taken to the Princes in shackles. Probably _silver_ shackles for him, he mused. When giving the raw meat to Mr. Stevens, Fayore said not a word. He was paralyzed with fear. Only the need to protect his new family kept him going. That, and fear of the creepy man with good grammar and diction behind him.

Fayore took the Officer to the inn and they looked around for Mike. They did not see him and, when they asked, Willow said that he had left earlier to go 'looking around'. Sam wouldn't answer them, but Fayore understood. Sam really hated the Prince's Officers. "I dunno if there's a book-place here, but if there is, I bet Uncle Mike'll be there." The wyrwolf half expected the man to tell him what a book-place was really called, but he didn't. I miss Aunt Kristen, the thought. She makes me feel safe. The man led Fayore to the book-place where there were many balding men in ugly brown dress-things. They found Mike tucked away in an alcove, surrounded by books, closed laptop on one leg and a book in his hands. He glanced up when the Officer coughed.

"You are this boy's Uncle Mike?" Mike nodded.

"Has he done anything wrong? I swear he thought he was doing something good–"

"No, no, no. This boy tells me you have a laptop?"

"Yes, I do," Mike responded suspiciously.

"Where did you get it?"

"I found it abandoned in the forest when I was, oh geez, five or so winters?" Mike answered, figuring the truth would be better.

The man nodded and said, "This boy tells me you can repair them, yes?" Mike nodded.

"Well, it really depends on what's wrong with it," the vampyr amended, standing up.

"It's broken."

"Well, yes. If it needs repairs, it must be broken." The man and Mike stared at each other for an awkward moment. "Umm . . . Can I take a look at it?" The man nodded.

"Follow me," he ordered, walking away without a backwards glance. As Mike bent to replace the books and grab his laptop, Fayore tugged on his sleeve questioningly. Poor Fayore had no idea how to get out of that horrible maze. Mike nodded and stood back up to follow the Officer.

_How new will his laptop be? _Mike thought, scuttling out of the library with Fayore hot on his heels. _Will I even be able to recognize it as a laptop?_ Mike knew the answer to that – Of course, or else no one else would have recognized his as one. _The real question is, _Mike amended as he caught sight of the man again, _will I be able to work it well enough to fix it? _They went to a back corner of the city, one of the residential sections, while Fayore and Mike were careful to keep Mike shaded, which was relatively easy to do, since the sun was beginning to set.

"Aunt Chrysis!" Fayore hollered as he saw the vampyr girl leave one of the oddly shaped houses. It was a strange teal-and-brass striped house with a large semi-circle for the front wall and an odd roof, like a triangle that had been kicked on one side too many times. She glanced up, baffled, and then smiled once she caught sight of Fayore's beaming face. Mike spun around and started shouting before anyone could get a word in edgewise.

"Chrissy! Where have you _been?_" Chrysis pointed back at the house while she shut the door. Mike gave her a look of 'Well, duh.' "Whose house is that?"

"Bernard's," she answered, skipping over to them. Thankfully, the Officer had stopped and was watching the scene eagerly. "I've been helping his wife all day," explained Chrysis, holding out her fist fingers up. She opened her hand, revealing three gleaming coins. Touching the smallest, a little tin coin with a small bird in mid-flight on it, she said, "That's a cardinal." Fayore pulled down her hand so he could see.

"That looked just like Jeremy," he exclaimed, smiling up at his 'aunt' and 'uncle'.

"Who is Jeremy?" the Officer asked, stepping back over to them.

"Aunt Kristen's little red bird."

"This one," Chrysis continued, point at a slightly larger brass coin that has a bird sitting on a roof on it, "is a raven."

"Neat," murmured Fayore as he picked it up and examined it.

"The other one is an eagle," Chrysis concluded. It was huge and gold and the eagle on it was large and its wings were fully spread out. It looked magnificent. Mike glanced at the Officer. He brown eyes were wide and utterly fixed on that large gold coin.

"A woman gave you that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. She runs her own business. A bakery."

The Officer blinked several times as he replied, "I keep forgetting they do things differently here."

"You're from Hanthoras?" Mike questioned, puzzled.

The man looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course not, thank Nuoris. I'm from Ryphansa. We don't treat our women as equals, because men and woman cannot be treated the same, but we don't harm them. Actually, women have a high status where I am from – we honor our mothers and sisters and daughters because it is they who raise us and teach us. But women are flighty and generally frivolous – we give them no coinage."

Mike nodded, trying to comprehend. Chrysis said, "That is true. As a whole, women spend more money on things we don't need. But all people are different and sometimes a woman may be better than a man when it comes to finances." Chrysis took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm sure they have a way of regulating who deals with the money in the family here just like you did in your hometown."

The man blinked at her. "I never thought of it that way before. I suppose you're right. Through my travels as an Officer, I have met some level-headed women and some flighty men." He held out his elbow from Chrysis to take. She did and they began talking as he rambled on about perspective and debated philosophy with Chrysis.

"Uncle Mike," Fayore hissed.

"What?"

"Does that man wanna settle down with Aunt Chrysis?"

"Wh-what?" Mike spluttered. "That's p-preposterous! I bet he's married."

"Then why did he have Aunt Chrysis hold his arm?" Fayore glanced around at all the people avoiding them. It was so unnerving that what they were doing – walking around in town with one of the Prince's Officers – was unacceptable. It felt like how the Clan treated him when he lived in the forest.

"I bet that's a custom from Ryphansa. They probably do it to 'protect' their women."

Fayore wrinkled his nose. "But Aunt Chrysis ain't his woman," he argued.

"Perhaps it's habit or maybe he feels obligated to protect her, since they're talking."

"What's awh-blih-gate-ed mean?"

"Obligated it spelled O-B-L-I-G-A-T-E-D. It means to bind or oblige morally or legally."

"Oh, okay. Hey, Uncle Mike?"

"Yes?"

"Can we practice writin' tonight? I wanna practice writin' all the new words y'all taught me."

"That's up to Dante, but I bet if you ask Chrysis or Kristen, he'll say yes."

"I know Uncle Dante likes Aunt Chrysis, but why would he say yes to Aunt Kristen?"

"Because Kristen has a way of making things happen for her . . . And because Dante promised to love her forever." Mike, even with all his might, couldn't say the last sentence with a straight face. He and Fayore burst out laughing. Chrysis and the Officer turned back to stare at them oddly.

"What's so funny?" Chrysis asked airily.

"Oh, nuthin'. Uncle Mike jus' said somethin' real funny."

"I don't think you were there for it, Chrissy," supplemented Mike.

"Oh, well, okay then." She and the man resumed talking.

Meanwhile, Dante glared, frustrated, at his blue cloth, cut to perfection, and the needle and thread in his hand. _Dear Creator, how could I have forgotten how to_ sew_? Mother and Rose teased me incessantly until I got it to their impossibly high standards. Honestly, who would expect a man to be able to sew as well as any seamstress?_

"_With a name like Pansy, you've _got_ to be able to sew," Rose taunted cruelly, laughing when I glared at her. We, being my little sister, me, and our mother, sat in frail wooden chairs my father and I built before he died hunting a bear around a lit fireplace, a pot near boiling above the fire. The air smelled wonderful despite the cold seeping into the small, one-room cottage. I sat in the middle, closer to Mother than Rose, glaring at an off-white piece of cut cloth that was to be my newest shirt – if I could put it together properly. _

"_Unlike you,_ I_ was raised learning thing to keep us _fed_, in a _house_, or to _build_ a house if necessary. All of them _outside_ jobs," I retorted._

"_You can sew outside, but it'd be easier if it weren't so windy."_

"_Stop it, you two. We're trying to encourage Pansy to sew, not make him want to brawl," Mother interrupted calmly. _

"_Which is what I _ought_ to be doing right now," I grumbled, trying to find a good angle to stick the needle through the cloth. I ended up sticking my thumb as well and yanked it back. Rose laughed while I staunched the blood flow with my teeth and tongue. I mumbled, "'Snot funny," but no one seemed to hear me. Girls never listen, no matter how old or young they are, I irritably reasoned. _

"_It's just like dancing, darling, which your father always told me was just like fighting, only less graceful." Before I could protest such an absurd comparison, Mother continued. "Think of your hands as teammates and the cloths as the opponent. The needle is your only sword and the opponent keeps running away from you. You toss the sword to your partner and back again to get a better vantage point stabbing his side and pulling the 'sword' through the cloth. Does that make sense?"_

_I shook my head, black fringes falling into open blue eyes, an annoying length to everyone I knew, but I liked it and it gave me an advantage in fights – my opponents always tried to get my hair in my eyes, which was not at all hard, and then were over-confident that they'd win. Their downfall was a combination of me being good at fighting blind and them not expecting that. "That makes absolutely no sense at all, Mother." I heard Rose chortle in the background and stubbornly chose to ignore it. _

"_Then think of it this way – are you familiar with Doctor Dixon's new inventions?"_

Dante was snapped out of his reverie before he would recall what exactly what made sewing click in his mind in the first place. He glared up over his shoulder where a tan hand sat and immediately regretted glaring. Jess peered down at him with a concerned look on her face. "Fergot how ta sew?" Dante sighed, wiping the anger off his face.

"I was trying to remember when you touched me."

"Sorry 'bout that. Want me ta let ya get back ta it?" Dante shook his head.

"It was a rather bothersome memory anyway," he replied. Jess grinned.

"It always is with boys." She sat on the counter beside him. "Ever seen a fish swim?" Dante nodded. "Treat the needle like it's a fish and make it swim through the cloth." Simple as that, she implied. _Makes more sense than Mother's first explanation_, grumbled Dante in his head. "The real trick is not poking yourself while you do it."

"Yeah, I remembered _that_ much," Dante muttered, the grumbling leaking out of his brain. Jess laughed at him, a demented combo of guffaw and chiming.

She patted him on the shoulder as she slid off the countertop. "Yeh'll soon get back in the swing of things. By the way, how're you an' Kristen?" The question took him by surprise. _Why would anybody ask how she and I are doing?_ he thought, baffled. Obviously he looked baffled, because she said: "Y'know, 'cause o' all that lovin' ferever ya promised her." She grinned wickedly at him.

"Oh geez, don't remind me of that horrible decision," groaned the vampyr. Jess laughed again and Dante covered his face with his hands, and moaned. "You're going to make Rae jealous and then she'll never stop clinging to me."

"Alright, fine. I'll be nice. Get ta work." And with that, Jess was off to her own chair and already concentrating hard on making her stitches neat and tiny by the time Dante managed to scrape together a reply. Dante groaned and picked up the needle, thankfully still threaded (it had taken him over an hour to get it threaded the first time and a couple of subsequent hours to keep it that way), and the two pieces of cloth that would be his new shirt if he managed to sew them together properly, and set to work trying not to impale himself and yet still manage to pierce the cloth.

Mike stared deeply into the computer screen, willing himself to come to a sudden, miraculous realization of how exactly he was supposed to charge the battery without any kind of electrical outlet. His own source of energy was far beyond outmoded and the plug-ins for his battery charger had absolutely no reciprocal on Officer Haroon Kakkar's modern laptop. "Do you have any kind of battery charger or power source that can plug into the laptop?" Mike finally questioned, interrupting the umpteenth discussion of morals between his little sister and the Officer. Officer Haroon stood immediately, replied affirmatively, and handed Mike a bag.

He pointed to a large pocket in the front and said, "It is in there. Just press and hold the power button until it becomes lit. It is broken too, though." Mike pulled out a sleek, shiny black plate. It felt glossy and plastic and the power 'button' was merely a few small pieces of mostly transparent plastic built into the rest of the plate. Mike pressed his finger gently on it, like he had for the power 'button' on the Officer's laptop. It was lit in only a few seconds, glowing softly blue. Mike attempted to turn on the laptop again and nothing happened. "I've never seen this kind of technology before," he admitted. "I'll do what I can, but I can't guarantee anything." Officer Haroon nodded.

"Thank you, Mike. I appreciate your assistance." Mike nodded back absent-mindedly.

"Is it possible for you to use my laptop to communicate?" Haroon shook his head.

"The laptops send out a specific signal coded for each Officer. Messages from me from any other laptop will not be trusted."

"Won't that bring someone to replace you anyway?" Haroon shook his head.

"No. They will send people to retrieve me and dispose of everyone around me – you and your family. The point is to get you to Elesin safely, is it not?" the Officer replied.

_What all did Fayore tell him?_ Mike thought, alarmed. Instead he said, "Yes." A pause. "I'll work on this as much as I can and try to get it fixed quickly."

"I thank you. And is suppose it is good we cannot leave immediately. Your sister has told me you have commissioned Ms. Hartford for sets of clothes for everyone. A wise choice – Ms. Hartford is the best tailor along The Path." Mike nodded, distracted again by his newest technical difficulty. It was far more frustrating than the last few he had since leaving Cerentia, but less angering. "Take that with you, Mike," Haroon ordered. "It will be curfew shortly and I am sure you, being nocturnal, will want to work on it through the night if you can." Mike nodded again, the order going in one fleshy ear and out the other.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Fayore hollered, "Hey Uncle Mike!" Mike's head jerked up.

"What? I'm busy."

"We gotta go."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Hurriedly, Mike grabbed his laptop, Officer Kakkar's laptop, and his charger. Chrysis took pity on him and took Haroon's laptop and Fayore took his charger. Mike thanked the Officer for letting him work on his laptop, Chrysis thanked him for the wonderful conversation, and Fayore thanked him for wanting to help them warn the Prince as soon as possible and then they left. Chrysis guided the way back to the inn, the other two supernatural beings following wordlessly behind her. Mike was hard at work trying to muddle his way through turning on the new laptop. Fayore was putting together how he would make Dante not hate him for talking to the Officer. Chrysis' thoughts were scrambled and difficult to follow, but they went something like this: _He was a nice guy. I must learn more about this Nuoris god. I love cats. They're so pretty. Yellow! Hey, is that a chalk seller? Oh, no. That's a candle maker's shop. I'm hungry and that guy over there smells tasty. Wait, no. It's the dog that smells yummy. Nevermind. I'm not a – ooh! Shiny!_

_**A.N. 2 -** Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, _please_ let me know. _


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